


This Damaged Heart

by marsbert



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsbert/pseuds/marsbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A close friend (and former lover) of Tom’s and Benedict’s has been brutally attacked and raped, and Tom takes it upon himself to try and help her heal and recuperate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: M  
> AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Mentions of rape, description of the attack later on - also, Benedict Cumberbatch is going to be a supporting character ;)

Tom came thundering through the stage doors into the back hallway of the Donmar, his chest hammering. His blood was pumping so loudly, it thundered in his ears. He was in full costume; he and Hadley had been rehearsing their fight scene. They had only just been able to access the fiery fervor that they needed to make the fight palpable, when Tom’s assistant had called his name and interrupted the entire atmosphere.

“What!” he bellowed into the hallway, storming through towards his cowering assistant. She was young, she hadn’t worked with him before, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he terrified her, ever since production on  _Coriolanus_ had begun. It had been three weeks, and the play was going strong, with good reviews, but she still cowered at times when he looked at her. He hoped it was only this portrayal of the scorching soldier who scared her, and not the real Tom beneath.

Carla was standing at the end of the hallway near the door to the dressing room; her back to the wall, her trusty appointment book clutched to her chest. She looked pale as a ghost as he neared her, and he tried to swallow his fury down as he stepped closer, taking a deep breath and attempting to calm his pounding heart.

Once he was close to her, he felt the lightning within his chest settle and he relaxed his face, doing his best to smile sweetly at the poor girl. “I’m sorry, what is it Carla?” he asked in a much calmer tone, the charismatic lilt returning to his voice.

She held out his phone, the screen indicated that there was an active call in progress. He looked from the phone to the young assistant, raising an eyebrow in question. “It’s Benedict,” Carla said in a small voice, “he said it’s urgent. He wouldn’t let me take a message,” she sounded frightened. Tom could only imagine what sort of urgent matter could cause Ben to be so demanding and forceful.

He took the phone from her, put it to his ear, and turned away. Continuing down the empty hallway, he hissed into the phone, “Ben, what’s going on?” He let his frustration seep through the connection; he had no worries of scaring Ben.

Ben’s voice was hoarse, he cleared his throat, and when he did finally begin to speak, he sounded like he could barely manage, “Tom, it’s  _Mal_.”

Tom stopped in mid-step, spinning around at the end of the hallway, “what about her?”

Ben sounded choked up, but Tom could barely understand him, “there’s been an accident.”

Tom watched as Carla disappeared into the dressing room, presumably to continue her own work while the rehearsals proceeded out on the stage. The hallway was empty now, dimly lit and incredibly blank. If Tom hadn’t known better, it would have been the perfect setting for a horror movie, especially this late in the evening.

“What happened?” he felt the words fall from his lips, they felt dry and parched. He felt his heart start to pump wildly again, as if the rage from rehearsal had re-entered his body, but this was different. This was the palpitation of fear; a quick, terrifying image invaded his thoughts, of Mal lying broken and bloody in a hospital room somewhere. He shook the image from his mind.  _Mal was a strong girl, spirited and determined, she had to be alright_ , he told himself.

“She’s…” Ben’s breath caught in his throat, and Tom heard him break down, attempting to muffle his sobs. Tom gave his friend a moment to compose himself, even though his own nerves were beginning to bubble dangerously in his stomach. Thankfully, Ben took a deep breath, and in a soft, almost inaudible voice, “she’s been attacked, Tom.”

“ _Attacked_?” the word felt foreign to him. His brain felt like it had stalled out, like his old car used to, “but she’s a kick boxer?” The comment sounded idiotic as he listened to what he had just said, but he shook his head and ran his trembling fingers through his hair.

“Tom,” Ben’s voice was suddenly clearer, fierce, “she was  _raped_.”

The fingers holding his phone went loose, the phone dropped cleanly from his grasp, and he heard it clatter to the floor. He stood there for a second, his skin crawled; the legs of a thousand bugs creeping their way up his arms. His chest felt like it was about to implode. His lungs were struggling for air, but his ribs were aching from the tension of heaving.

He stumbled backwards a few blind steps, and his back hit the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He reveled in the sensation, despite how uncomfortable it felt. His legs quaked at the weight of him, and he began to slide, allowing his powerful thighs to collapse as he slid to the floor. He plopped onto the cold tile, his legs kicked out across the narrow hallway. The phone lay a few inches from him, and he could hear Ben’s voice calling to him from thousands of miles away.

After the fog lifted, Tom shook his head again, trying to clear his thoughts, and scrambled to reach for the phone. He shoved it back against his ear and stammered for Ben’s attention. “Ben,” his voice a hoarse whisper, “Ben, where is she?”

Ben’s wavering voice was the only comfort to him in the hallway now. The dim shadows that danced across the blank walls threatened him with horrifying images of an act he couldn’t fathom. He squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face with his free hand as his friend tried to calmly inform him of what had happened. “I don’t know the whole story. She’s in Croydon, her sister called me. I can’t get there until tomorrow. Someone needs to go to her now. She _needs_  us.”

Tom could barely catch his breath, tears were clouding his eyes and stinging his cheeks. He nodded at Ben’s words, but then he remembered he was on the phone, “okay,” he muttered softly.

“Can you get to her?”

Tom nodded again, then ran his hand roughly over his face, inhaling sharply through his teeth, “I can get there.” The sound of his own voice made his chin start to tremble. “ _Ben_ …” he started to cry quietly, his words were starting to fail him, he could barely comprehend what he was saying.

“Yes?” Ben sounded impatient, stressed, “what?”

“H-how?” he stuttered, unsure how to finish the question. He had so many questions swirling through his brain, he didn’t think he could vocalize only one. He covered his shaking lips with his palm and heard Ben take another shuddering sigh over the phone.

“I don’t know, Tom. I really don’t know. Her sister is at the hospital with her, she’ll meet you.”

They exchanged a few more difficult, teary words, before hanging up. Tom held the silent phone to his chest, the fingers around it clutching it tightly. He let the phone fall back to the floor, brought his knees up and leaned his elbows on them, burying his eyes into the heels of his palms.   
In the blackness before him, the image of the last time he had seen Mal was plastered to the inside of his eyelids. He coughed out another sob, struggling to gain control of himself, cringing at the idea of someone violating her that way. She had always been so happy, so lively and bright. Throughout the entire _Avengers_  shoot, there had rarely been a moment when she hadn’t been smiling and laughing.

Tom ripped his hands away from his eyes, rubbing his jaw roughly, wiping tears from his cheeks. He stared across to the empty wall in front of him, eyes glazing over as he remembered all those times she had flirted with him while they had been training for his fight scenes. All those times he had flirted right back, unabashedly, and what their mutual flirtation had eventually led to.

She had been fine with their relationship being a temporary one, she had even told him, “I’m not looking for anything long-term.” He hadn’t been ready for anything serious, which had sounded so cheap when he had said it, but it had been true. They had had their fun during the shoot, and then when the movie was done, they had said their good-byes and gone their separate ways. It hadn’t been too long afterward that she had contacted him and told him she would be working with his good friend Ben on the new  _Star Trek_  movie.

Tom leaned back, his broad back connecting with the wall sharply, his legs once again splaying out in front of him. He purposefully hit the back of his head against the wall, the thud echoing through his skull. He sat there with his eyes clenched tightly; remembering that first awkward dinner the three of them had had, once she and Ben had come back to London. Ben had taken him aside when Mal had gone to the bathroom, and confessed that he knew about her and Tom’s relationship. Tom had been only slightly surprised to learn that Ben and Mal had a similar relationship during the  _Star Trek_  shoot. The tinge of jealousy he had been afraid might overtake him, had never reared its ugly head. What she had with Ben was over, and there was only friendship in its place; just as she had with Tom.

_My sweet Mallory_ , he thought to himself, once again imagining her lying in a hospital bed, beaten and broken, he couldn’t imagine the pain or shame she might be feeling now. He took a deep breath, finally able to contain his tears, and slowly lifted himself up off of the floor. He picked up his phone, numbly aware of the late hour, and stepped stiffly back towards the dressing room door. He contemplated quickly how he was going to explain to Carla and everyone at the theater why he had to leave, but he knew what he had to do, and it had to be done quickly.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A close friend (and former lover) of Tom’s and Benedict’s has been brutally attacked and raped, and Tom takes it upon himself to try and help her heal and recuperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get back to this fic - I think the serious subject matter kind of scared me away right after I started it 
> 
> WARNING: Mentions of rape, description of the attack later on - also, Benedict Cumberbatch is going to be a supporting character ;)

Forty-five minutes later, Tom’s car careened into the first parking space he could find outside the hospital. Benedict had texted him which hospital Mallory was at, and he jogged down the dark sidewalk to the main door. Despite the late hour, the hallway was bustling, full of people buzzing around; nurses, doctors, family members of those in need. He threw himself into the front desk and looked from one preoccupied nurse to the next.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on and on into eternity; a middle aged, heavy set woman turned to him and smiled calmly, “who are you here to see handsome?”

He ignored the tiny flirt; in any other situation he would have poured on the charm in kind, but that was not where his mind was at right now, “Mallory McLintock.”

“Are you family?” the nurse asked, eyeing him with a playfully suspicious face.

Tom felt his shoulders sink, his face went slack in shock.  _Would he be denied access to one of his dearest friends, in her time of need, because he wasn’t related to her?_  He stuttered for a moment, unsure how to answer the nurse’s question, when a hand unexpectedly snaked up his arm and unsure fingers gripped his elbow. He turned to see Mal’s older sister Susan looking up at him. Her fingers tightened briefly on his arm as she turned to the nurse who had been addressing him, “he’s with us, Victoria,” she said quietly. The nurse quickly changed her gaze to a more serene, respectful face, and nodded briskly as Susan started to pull Tom down towards a hallway.

Once away from the loud hum of the emergency room, it was only the quick succession of Susan and Tom’s footsteps that thumped in his ears. Part of him told himself he was suffering from a form of shock, and that once he could be sure Mal was going to be alright, he would snap out of it, but the feeling of being disengaged and unattached from everything that was going on around him was beginning to make him feel sick to his stomach.

Susan’s voice was low and hoarse, but it cut through the silence sharply, “she’s not doing well, Tom,” she said as she led him down another hallway.

_As if she could be well,_  he thought briefly, as Susan came to a slow stop outside the door of one of the many rooms. Tom stopped himself suddenly and looked at the closed door apprehensively; dozens of images rushing through his mind of what he might find behind it. He turned towards Susan, “is she…” he felt an uncomfortable clog in his throat, steadily widening as he tried to calm himself, “is she…in pain?”

Susan sighed and crossed her arms to hug herself. He had only met her once before, years ago at the wrap party for  _The Avengers_ , but she looked much the same as how he had remembered her. She and Mal looked completely different; Susan being so severe with her dirty blonde hair, pinched nose, and thin lips. It had been a shock to meet her at the party, he had been expecting an older version of Mallory; perhaps with the same hair and eyes, but with slightly different angles or proportions. Susan and Mal were like oil and water, and he had heard all about it while he and Mal had been together. The sisters got along, but their world-views were at opposite ends of the spectrum of life, and neither of them were about to let the other forget that fact.

“It could have been a  _lot_  worse,” Susan said quietly, her stern eyes looking down towards the floor, he could see that she had been crying. She inhaled deeply through her nose, steadying herself, “the doctor said there shouldn’t be any permanent damage, at least not  _physically_.”

Tom’s skin began to crawl, the hair on the back of his neck rose in a quick shiver, and he felt a surge rush through him just at the thought. The idea that someone had done this to Mal, that they had purposefully harmed her in such a way that would have such a lasting effect on her – the idea made his already-upset stomach begin to do back flips.

She motioned behind him, and he turned to see a pair of empty chairs sitting against the wall across from Mal’s room. Susan went to one and sat down, keeping her arms crossed tightly around her torso, she looked tight and rigid; the complete opposite of Mal’s usual graceful and fluid nature.

He fell into the chair next to her and it felt like his legs went limp as soon as he did. Sitting in the small chair, the hallway empty and quiet around them, the thumping angst that was crowding within his head felt like it was starting to creep in around his vision. He felt his chest begin to tighten as the disturbing claustrophobic feeling started to wash over him, then Susan’s curt voice cut through the silence once again and distracted him.

“She was walking to her car; it happened outside some gym she’s been training at. I don’t know what happened to the guys she was working with, they must have been inside or something. Whatever happened, she was outside alone, in the dark, and there was someone out there…with a gun…” she lost her voice for a moment, and Tom looked at her quickly out of the corner of his eye to see her wiping her face. She took another steadying breath, and when she exhaled, it was shaky and uneven. She didn’t look back at him, but she felt his eyes on her, and looked down at his hands in his lap as she continued, stuttering, “h-he forced her into her c-car…”

Without thinking, Tom reached over and laid his hand lightly on Susan’s knee. Her eyes flitted to stare at his knuckles, and he found himself holding his breath, waiting to see if she would shoo his hand away in anger. Instead, Susan crumpled in front of his eyes. She reached out a shaking hand to cover his fingers and gripped his hand tightly as she covered her face with her other hand. Her sobs came silently, but her entire body shook with the violence of them, as she came unraveled within her seat.

They sat there silently for what felt like hours, Tom gripped Susan’s kneecap tightly as she cried. He fought back his own tears for a few minutes, until she bent over and laid her elbows on her knees. Seeing the usually sturdy and stoic Susan gasping for air as she tried to get her tears under control, snapped the tenuous bit of control Tom had within himself since Ben’s phone call. He withdrew his hand from her lap and brought it up to his quivering mouth, surprised to find that his cheeks were already wet with the salty tracks of his own tears. He leaned back in his chair, the top of the stiff seat digging harshly into his shoulders. He ignored the ache, images of Mal in unimaginable terror in the backseat of her beat up old car, haunting his thoughts.

Struggling to catch his breath, Tom covered his eyes and wheezed for a few minutes, before both he and Susan finally stilled and sat quietly in their chairs, both spent from the physical expulsion. She leaned back in her chair and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffing loudly. She brought her small purse onto her lap and started searching inside it for something.

Whatever she was looking for, she became more and more frustrated when she couldn’t find it. Tom assumed what she was in search of, and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She looked up at him, and in that moment, in the harsh white light of the hospital hallway, with both their eyes bloodshot and their cheeks tear-stained, he finally saw her resemblance to her younger sister. In her wide-eyed surprise at the sight of his offer, she looked up at him with the same eyes Mal had looked at him with when he had surprised her with a kiss on the dance floor, so many years ago. That same shocked but relieved expression; a combination of a small amount of gratitude mixed with the relief of someone else knowing exactly what was going through your head at that moment.

Another moment passed before she was ready to speak again, and when she handed him back his handkerchief, it was wadded up in a tight little ball. Tom stuffed it back into his pocket as Susan took one more deep breath, then spurted, “the doctor said she could probably go home tomorrow. I know Ben said he wanted to see her when he gets in tomorrow, but I don’t think she’ll want to stay here if she doesn’t have to. I don’t know if she’ll want to go back to her flat…I could probably stay a few days, but I can’t stay away from the kids for too long.” The helpless frustration was audible in her words, and she turned back to Tom with a longing, questioning look in her eyes.

Tom nodded silently, his gaze drawn back to the closed door of Mal’s room. Susan followed his line of sight, her eyes fell upon the door, and she leaned back in her chair. She folded her arms across her chest again, slumped in a way he had never seen her before, all pretenses forgotten and long gone.

“She’s  _not_  asleep,” she said after a minute of silence.

He turned to look at her, and she eyed him in a sideways glance, nodding when their eyes met, “the doctor asked her if she wanted something to help her sleep, but she refused.”

“Should we go in?” he couldn’t hide the fear in his voice, he felt his throat tremble with the uncertainty he felt about what they should do. He wanted to go to Mal, to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He remembered how she would hold onto him after they made love; laying together in his hotel bed, wrapped in each other’s limbs and the sweaty sheets. She would put her arm around his waist and fall asleep with her cheek against his stomach, he would look down and watch as her head gently rose and fell with each breath he took.

There was a tiny voice in his head screaming for him to leap across the hall and throw open the door, to go to her bedside and tell her he was there for her, no matter what, whatever she needed, he would do. But another voice echoed each call to chivalry with a scared, cautious retort –  _what if she doesn’t want your help?_  Mal had always been independent and self-reliant, even to the point of defiance. He had never known her to be the type to ask for help, no matter the situation, and she was stubborn beyond belief. He remembered how well that infuriating stubbornness had worked for her when she was training actors to fight and block for the camera; but when it had come to relationships, she had confessed it usually got her into trouble.

“If you want to go in and see her,” Susan interrupted his memories and startled him back into the reality of the stark, eerily depressing hospital hallway they were sitting in. “Then  _go_ , Tom. There’s nothing stopping you,” she sounded apprehensive, her tone was worrying.

“What was she…like…when you saw her?” he asked tentatively.

Susan looked away from him again and back at the door, flexing her grip on her own arms as they hugged her. She contemplated for another minute, then sighed, “she’s upset. She’s angry…you know Mal, she’s more pissed off than anything else.”

“Did they catch the guy?” the thought blurted out of him before he even had time to think it over, the question fell from him like vomit. He needed to know now, both of the voices that had been arguing within his brain were now clamoring for an answer; to know whether or not the man who had done this to his dear friend, had been apprehended or not.

Susan began to slowly shake her head, and he felt his insides sink. His heart felt like it had literally dropped down into his stomach, his shoulders fell and he felt queasy again.

“She gave the police a description, but I don’t know if it will do any good,” her tone was painfully sardonic, almost sarcastic. Tom watched her carefully until she turned to meet his gaze. In the moment their eyes met, he felt the tears stinging once again behind his eyes. He blinked them away hastily, lifting a heavy hand to rub at his face harshly. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug the pads of his thumb and index finger into them, pressing in until he saw stars against the blackness.

After another moment of slow, steadying breaths, Tom was able to sit up in the uncomfortably small chair, his back aching from how he had been slouched in his anxious gloom. He gripped the arm rests and pushed himself up, but his body didn’t seem to want to work with him. It was as if his muscles were in rebellion, each of the tendons running through his arms and legs fighting him as he tried to walk across the hallway. He glanced back over his shoulder at the still-seated Susan, but the act of turning his gaze momentarily unsteadied him, and he felt aggravatingly uneasy on his feet.

“Tom,” Susan called to him as he neared the door. He looked back at her again, his hand gripping the door handle with nervous sweat. She watched him for a beat before motioning towards the room he was about to enter, “she’s not herself, keep that in mind. She’s not going to be happy to see you…not like she usually is.”

He felt a tiny flutter inside his chest at her words; at the idea that Mal had usually been  _happy_  to see him, and he desperately tried to hold onto that idea as he turned back to face the door. He gripped the knob tightly in his sweaty hand and turned it slowly, reminding himself to breathe as he opened the door quietly, and lifted a weighty leg to step inside.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom goes into Mal's room at the hospital to see how she is, and after the initial shock of seeing her bruised and beaten, the two of them have a raw and teary reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as with the other chapters, this one briefly mentions rape.

The room was eerily dark and the silence within it rang in Tom’s ears as the door fell closed behind him. The moonlight was attempting to crawl through the slats of the blinds that had been drawn across the only window, but even with that broken white light, the darkness infected the entire space, suffocating every inch.

Tom stood, frozen in the stifling shadows, willing himself to take a step forward. His eyes had adjusted; he could see the outline of the hospital bed and the quiet form within it. He could make out the shape of an empty chair on the other side of her bed, but he couldn’t get his legs to move. They had seized the moment the door had snapped closed. It was like walking back in time. The air in the room was heavy with her scent – her natural aroma which catapulted him back through the years that had separated them.

They had been working on the  _Avengers_  film for a couple of months, and he and Chris had been training with Mal and her team constantly throughout the shoot. She and Tom had become friendly, he had enjoyed working with her, and he wasn’t shy about letting her know it. He had started to flirt with her, which he knew in the back of his mind he did with  _many_  women, and sometimes it got him in trouble, but it was just a part of who he was. She had flirted right back with him, she hadn’t been offended or put off, so they had continued their mutual flirtation and attraction throughout the past few weeks.

The gym was mostly empty, it  _was_  rather late. He and Chris had been here earlier in the day with Evans and Scarlett to work on a difficult fight scene, but then they had all gone out for dinner, and Tom had accidentally left his sweatshirt in the gym. He  _could_  have waited until the next day to retrieve it, there was no reason to think anyone would take it. For whatever reason, he had decided to go back and grab his sweatshirt before going back to his hotel, and that had been when he found her.

Mal was alone in the dark gym; over in the corner with her back to him, away from the equipment that they had set up to train with. She was highlighted by the warm white glow of a street lamp that sat just outside the window. He had stood there and watched her for longer than he meant to; either she hadn’t heard him come in, or she hadn’t  _cared._  She was doing some kind of exercise, he didn’t know what it was called, and weeks later when they would be cavorting around with each other he wouldn’t ask. He watched as she extended her arms, stretching them out in front of her, keeping some sort of rhythmic pace with her breathing. Her legs were taut, lean and tense in her stance; she was focused on one spot to center all her energy as she moved.

She had the fluid grace of a dancer, but she had the muscle tone of a body builder. It had been one of the first things Tom had noticed about her when they had started working together; Mal wasn’t  _big_ , but she was strong. She wasn’t rail-thin like most of the women in the business, but every inch of her was muscle, and she used every inch of herself, no matter what she was doing. She knew how to dance, how to fight, how to balance, how to  _move_ , and it intrigued him to no end.

It was while he was watching her in that quiet darkness of the gym that she spun around and Tom’s heart skipped a beat when he thought she had seen him. It took him a moment to realize that she had her eyes closed as she spun. She wasn’t watching where she stepped, she wasn’t keeping an eye on her time or who might be coming into the gym – she was connected to her movements and nothing else. It was then that he remembered inhaling that scent; of warm sugar and sweat; of some mixture of fruit and the slight tang of perspiration. It wafted through the air, permeating the gym equipment and fusing with Tom’s cells as it intruded upon his nostrils. The idea of her spinning around with her eyes closed in the darkness, and the intensity with which her distinctive aroma invaded his body struck him as significant, but in that moment he hadn’t been prepared to consider the philosophical aspects of the situation.

That scent lingered in the hospital room, although it wasn’t  _exactly_  how he remembered it. There was the hint of fruit and sugary vanilla that he knew came from the body lotion she used every morning after her shower, there was even the slight tang of perspiration that mingled with it in the air – but it wasn’t the same. He wondered absentmindedly if it had anything to do with the attack; if going through a trauma like that could change the chemical makeup of a person so quickly, and cause them to  _smell_  differently. He had no idea about that aspect of the human body.

Tom forced himself to come back to the present, no matter how upsetting and disturbing his present moment was. He looked over at the figure that was Mal as she lay with her back to him, breathing slowly and quietly in the darkness. He watched her body rise and fall with each breath, but he knew she wasn’t asleep. There had been something about what Susan had said out in the hallway, something in the way she had described her sister, which made him certain that Mal was lying in here, wide awake and waiting.

“Mal?” his voice cracked despite her name being so short. Even in the stillness of the dark, he could see her tense for a second at the sound of his voice. He expected that she had been waiting for whoever had come into her room to speak, ever since she had heard the door open.

She didn’t move, she didn’t turn to look at him, she remained perfectly still as he forced himself to take a step towards her. He hated feeling so terrified of her, _this is Mal!_  he told himself,  _she’s your friend!_  He repeated these words to himself as he slowly rounded the end of the bed and stepped towards the empty chair. When he sat down, he saw her in the broken light. Her face was shadowed in the darkened room, but he could still see the bruises, and they churned his stomach. Her left eye, which lay against her pillow, was black and puffy. There was a small butterfly bandage on her other cheek, covering a short, angry-looking tear in her skin. Her bottom lip had been busted and looked painful to move.

She didn’t look at him when he sat down; she stared at a point on the window behind him. He leaned back in the chair and raised a shaking hand to his mouth as he looked her over; other than the bruises and scratches, she looked like his old Mal. There was the same messy hair, the same dark eyes, and if she were able to smile – or had any  _reason_  to – it would have been the same bright smile. There was a shadow hanging over her that he didn’t recognize, a scowl upon her relaxed and emotionless face that was foreign to the Mal he remembered.

It wasn’t until Tom stifled a sob into his palm and inhaled sharply that Mal shifted her eyes to look at him. Her gaze wasn’t the same eager, lively one he remembered from across the dance floor, or over drinks; this one was full of bottled rage and muted fury. There was a sliver of sorrow in the glimmer of her eyes and when she blinked, he saw her brow furrow in a disturbingly unstable way.

“Mal,” he breathed, leaning towards her with his elbows digging into his knees. She looked away and tears fell from her eyes, cascading down the pillow and onto the sheets. She reached up and touched her cheek where the bandage was, then even more tears began to fall. Tom reached out to her and tried to lay his hand upon her arm, but she pulled her arms in and hugged herself tightly at his movement. He watched her, his hand pressed into the warmth of her sheets, and he couldn’t contain his own tears any longer.

She coughed, it looked painful, then she began to turn slowly onto her back. He watched her as she moved, then pulled his chair closer to the edge of her bed and leaned his arms onto the mattress, reaching over to take her hand in his. It wasn’t until she had allowed him to hold her hand between his own that he realized one of her fingers had been broken and was wrapped in a tight splint. Tom pressed the back of her hand against his lips as tears tracked down his cheeks, his face still raw from crying in the hallway with Susan. He gripped her hand as tightly as he dared, not wanting to hurt her, and tried his best to get his muffled sobs under control.

Mal inhaled slowly through her nostrils, and held her breath for a moment, staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes. When she turned back to him, she had blinked away the remaining tears, and her eyes were dull and unfocused. She looked at him – she  _saw_  him in front of her, but he could tell she was really looking  _through_  him. She inhaled again, then in a raspy, hoarse voice, “you didn’t have to come, Tom, it’s fine.”

He looked up at her; his eyes raw and pink, his lips still pressed against her hand. He pulled her hand away from his mouth and held it between his palms, his heart thumping in his ears. “Ben called me,” he wheezed, “he’ll be here tomorrow,” his voice sounded gruff and unfamiliar to him.

Mal started to shake her head, “you guys don’t need to be here. Sue’s going home with me tomorrow.”

Tom smiled wearily through his tears, wiping them away with the back of his hand. Nodding vaguely, he breathed, “she told me.” He glanced at the door to the hallway, then back at her as she watched him impassively. The image that had invaded his mind out there in the hallway – of a horrified Mal in the back seat of her car, as some stranger held her at gun point – suddenly flooded back to him and his face twisted in agony, “oh  _Mallory_ ,” he hissed.

Mal’s brow cinched together, but she swallowed her tears and looked away from him, glancing around the room in frustration. She gently pulled her hand from his and held it against her chest with her other one. “You should go,” she said softly, staring down at her hands.

Tom stared at her, “what?”

After a moment, she looked up at him. Her eyes hard and stony in the darkness, “you should  _go_ , Tom,” she said sternly, “you and Ben don’t need to be here. Sue shouldn’t have called you.  _I’m fine_.” The force with which she uttered the last bit caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

Tom gripped the thin bed sheets in his now-empty hands. He bit his lower lip as he tried to compose himself and gather his thoughts, he had no idea how best to go about this, but he didn’t want to just  _leave_  her. Not here in this dark hospital room, alone in the middle of the night.

Mal watched him while he considered what to say, then she continued without waiting for him, “I know you’ve got the play to worry about. You’ve got a lot of shows to do. You don’t need to worry about me as well. It was nice of you to visit, but I’m fine.”

The tears had stopped falling from his sore eyes, “M-Mal,” he stuttered, “Ben and I  _both_  want to help you through this –”

“But I don’t  _need_  you to help me through this,” she interrupted him. “I told you, Sue is going to stay with me for a few days, and then I’m going back to work. It’s _fine_ , Tom.”

“No, it’s not  _bloody_  fine!” his anger burst from him so loudly Mal jumped. He immediately felt terrible, placing his hands on her leg as she glared at him. He took a breath, but still wasn’t able to completely contain his frustration. “Mallory,” he glared at her, “we want to  _help_  you. We are your  _friends._ ”

Her look of sudden surprise quickly morphed into skeptical denial, and he saw a fraction of the sarcastic, dry humor that he had come to associate with her over the years. She watched him cautiously, then in her own emotional outburst, began to cry out in a strained voice, “well you can’t  _bloody_  help me very well, _can_  you?” She stammered through her angry tears, “can you un-rape me? Can you do that Tom? Can you turn back time, and change it so I  _didn’t_  get held up in the parking lot? Can you change the past? I didn’t think that was on your CV? I don’t remember that being listed along with the many languages you’re fluent in, or how you were trained with the broadsword at Uni?”

“M-Mal?” he struggled in shock.

“No!” she was wild. “I haven’t heard from you in  _months_. I haven’t seen you  _or_ Ben in over a year. Suddenly  _this_  happens and you’re all over me? If we’re such great friends Tom, where have you been? I know you’ve been busy with your big movie career, but you could have called me! It might have been nice to have lunch since we’re both in London at the moment, don’t you think?”

“I-I…I didn’t think –”

“No, you  _didn’t._  And you know why you didn’t? Because all you were to me was a good fuck for a few weeks back in the States. It was a good shag, that’s  _it._  If you and I had been  _real_  friends, we wouldn’t have  _fucked_ , and we would have actually stayed in touch for more than a month after filming had wrapped. Do you know why you’re here right now? Why Ben is on his way here right now? Because you feel guilty –  _both_  of you, and you’re trying to make yourself feel better. That’s on  _you_ , not me. I can deal with my own shit, thank you. I don’t need either of you to help me with that!” Tears streamed down her face, seeping into the butterfly stitch and the scar beneath it. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes ablaze.

Tom sat back stiffly, his hands fell from the bed and into his lap. He leaned back against the chair, then quietly stood up and turned away from her. His eyes felt dry and drained, his face ached. He walked silently to the door, and had been about to open it, his hand on the knob, when he looked back over his shoulder at her. She had sat up against her pillows to watch him leave, her arms crossed over her chest. She had a mixture of anger and pleading on her face. She looked furious with him, but also terrified that he would leave.

He cleared his throat and swallowed painfully as he looked at her, “I was in  _love_ with you, Mal,” he started. “I was enamored with you, spellbound. I couldn’t get enough. You had me wrapped around your little finger. I would have done _anything_  for you,” he inhaled harshly through his nose. Her lip started to shake as he went on, “You didn’t  _want_  me around, after the shoot. You made that quite clear, but I  _wanted_  to stay. I  _wanted_  to be a constant part of your life, but you wouldn’t let me  _in_. You wouldn’t allow me to gain any footing – whether it was because you were afraid to commit or not, I never knew. But you can’t tell me that it was just  _sex_  between us, when you were the one who broke it off. I would have given  _anything_  to have had you by my side for these past few years, and I would give _anything_  to change what happened to you tonight.” He sucked in air bitterly and turned back towards the door. The knob turned in his hand and he pulled the door open an inch when he heard a tiny voice from behind him.

“ _Wait_ ,” she croaked. His heart skipped at the sound of her frail begging. He let the door fall shut and turned back to her; she was hugging her knees to her chest and vibrating with sobs as she watched him. The anguish on her face, contorting the once-familiar features into something he could barely recognize. Tom was back across the room in two strides of his long legs, and had swooped down to the edge of her bed and wrapped her in his arms before she had even taken another breath. She groped at him, her feeble fingers clasping at his arms as he held her. She shook against him, silently sobbing into his chest as he held a hand to the back of her head. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her hair, inhaling deeply. He pressed his cheek against her head as he ran a hand over her back. “I’m  _sorry_ ,” she wheezed through her sobs, clutching at him helplessly.

He softly shushed her, “it’s alright,” he whispered. She cried harder and her arms slowly found their way around his ribs. She hugged him tightly; her grip anxious and dangerously clinging.

He continued to rub her back and periodically shush her sobs, somehow containing his own as he comforted her. Mal struggled to take a deep breath within his arms, once she was finally able to catch her breath and she relaxed against him, she pulled back a few inches to look up at him. “Did you really mean it?” She searched his face as he looked down at her. He ran his fingers through her hair. Tears still fell freely from her swollen eyes, but she was slightly more stable than she had been before, “you  _loved_  me?”

Tom felt his chin quiver precariously, but he did his best to smile and assure her through his tear-filled eyes, “I  _still_  love you, Mal. I always will.”

Her face screwed up in fresh new tears and she covered her mouth with a strained mixture of a laugh and a sob. Tom drew her back into his arms. She muffled her sobs into his shirt and clutched at him again, her fingers dancing over the muscles in his back as she hugged him. After another moment, she took a difficult breath and sighed heavily against him. Her voice was tired and strained, but she finally sounded more like her old self, “I forgot what it was like to be hugged by you.”

He chuckled softly and ran his hand lightly over her head, kissing her hair again, “come stay with me.” The suggestion was out in the air before he had even considered it, but it didn’t bother him. It felt  _right._

Mal shifted within his arms and looked up at him, her bruised face raw from crying, “are you sure?”

He looked down at her with a small smile, nodding, “more than anything, sweetheart.”

“What about the play?”

He shrugged and pulled her back into a hug, rubbing her back again as he leaned his chin upon her head, “we’ll make it work.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom accompanies Mal to a session of her therapy with her psychiatrist. Their friendship grows stronger after an emotional and difficult discussion with her doctor, and they are stronger now because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is rather heavy on the rape-details, so please do not read if that will bother you. I am not a professional psychiatrist, but I’ve done my best to do my research. Also, Benedict was going to be more of a major character in this, but for now I’ve kind of written him out, but we’ll see, he might come back! ;)

“Mallory, since we’ve had a few sessions together, why don’t we talk about why the three of us are here today,” Dr. Myers said in her calm, serene voice.

The three of them sat in her spacious office; the hum of the air conditioner softly pulsating throughout the room, the blinds pulled down so that only a fraction of the outside brightness was filtering in.

Tom had come to Dr. Myers’ office with Mal two times before this; during her first appointment he had sat out in the waiting room, and when Mal had come out after her allotted hour, she looked as pale as a ghost and dangerously fatigued. She didn’t speak for the rest of the day, and Tom had been tempted to call the doctor’s office and berate her for abusing Mal. It hadn’t been until later, when Mal had asked him to come with her to her second appointment, and he had sat in the room with the doctor and Mal and listened to their session, that he realized the therapy would actually  _help_  Mal, in the long run.

Now, she had leaned forward in her chair, elbows propped on her knees, her hands folded in front of her while she anxiously rubbed her hands together. “I guess I realized I needed  _professional_  help, the day I tried to force myself on the one person who has been trying to help me from the very beginning,” Mal said in a cracked, rough voice. She wouldn’t look over at him, her eyes were fixed on the floor in front of her, and Tom knew why.

Mal hadn’t wanted to try therapy at first. She had come home with him after leaving the hospital; Susan had been disapproving as she helped her sister pack some clothes and toiletries from her flat, but by the time he had driven the two of them across the city to his house, the older of the two sisters seemed to have warmed to the idea of Tom taking care of her little sister. When Susan had left to return to her own family, Mal had done her best to put on a brave face and try to move on.

Ben had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and Tom couldn’t blame him. The first few days after the attack, Mal’s moods ranged from sulking, to hysterically sobbing, to furiously screaming. She raided Tom’s liquor cabinet on her first night at his house, while Ben slept in the living room and Tom had been tossing in his own bed. The two of them had found her curled up in the closet of the guest room – where she and Susan had unpacked most of her belongings – clutching an empty bottle of scotch and mumbling deliriously. Ben had wanted to help, but the next day he got a phone call from his agent and sheepishly confessed to Tom that he wouldn’t be able to stay more than another day before he had to get back to the set. Mal hadn’t been upset when Ben left, she understood the constraints of shooting, and she knew Ben had taken time out of his incredibly busy schedule to come see her. She had put on a smile for him, and she and Tom had taken him to the airport, making plans to meet up later in the month when they would all have more time.

Dr. Myers turned her gaze from the brooding Mal, to look over at Tom, who had been quiet for the majority of the session so far. He felt her watching him, and looked back at her with wide, bewildered eyes. “Tom,” the older woman said calmly, flashing a gentle smile at him before continuing, her notebook ready in her lap, “why don’t you tell me about what happened.”

Tom swallowed painfully; he felt his heart start to flutter erratically in his chest as he took a shaky breath to try and steady himself. He had never been to therapy before, but he had agreed to accompany Mal because she had asked him to. The idea of having Mal break down in front of him, or having to hear the horrible details of her attack, terrified him to no end. He cleared his throat and glanced over at Mal, who continued to stare at the floor. He looked back at the doctor, and smiled weakly, then cleared his throat again nervously, “it wasn’t really–” he started, but Mal interrupted him.

“Stop downplaying it _,_  Tom,” she demanded without looking up at him. His eyes darted over to her, and he could see she was her biting her lip to try and control her tears.

Tom took another breath and turned back to the doctor, “we were at the Donmar,” he started.

“The theater where you’re working on your play,” Dr. Myers interjected.

Tom nodded, “Mal’s been coming with me to the late shows. I-I wanted to postpone, but –”

Dr. Myers put up a gentle hand and shook her head, still smiling at him, “there’s no need to make excuses Tom; we know why we are all here. If you didn’t care for Mallory the way that you do, you wouldn’t be trying to help her, and you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

Tom felt his own lip begin to quiver with the effort of trying to control his breathing – remembering Mal laying in her hospital bed, the bruises on her face still raw and aching, her tears seeping into the wound on her cheek that was now a painful-looking scar. After another deep breath, he continued, “it was after the show, I was getting ready to go and she was waiting for me.” He cleared his throat, “she came into my dressing room and we were talking…”

“What were you talking about?” the doctor asked calmly.

Tom glanced up at the ceiling, then back at the doctor, “Mal was talking about part of the play –”

“I had mentioned that there was an aspect of  _Coriolanus_  that was very sexual,” Mal interrupted, still watching the carpet, “even if it wasn’t meant that way. The blood and the fighting, and the anger and rage Caius has, it comes from a very raw and visceral place. And then I started thinking about sex in general…” Mal trailed off, looking away from both of them. He watched her for a moment as she stared at a fixed point on the wall, purposefully avoiding their eyes.

He sighed, and continued, “somehow the conversation got to the point where Mal was upset, and she was saying that she wasn’t sure if she would ever want to have sex again. She was teary, very emotional, and I wasn’t sure how to respond…”

“Now,” the doctor interrupted again, “the two of you had a sexual relationship, years ago, correct?”

Tom looked back at Mal, who glanced in his direction, but wouldn’t make eye contact with him. She turned back to Dr. Myers and nodded, and Tom sighed heavily, “we had a fling, years ago, yes.”

“Mal tells me that  _you_  wanted it to be more than that, is that right Tom?”

That uncomfortable feeling of being pried open for everyone to see, like an old book, washed over him so quickly he felt the flutter of nerves in his chest and stomach again. He swallowed, then nodded, “I wanted to have more of a relationship with her, yes.”

“So talking about sex isn’t an abnormal topic for the two of you?”

He shook his head robotically, “we’re pretty open with each other, usually. We always have been.”

“But it was different on the night in question?”

He heard Mal sigh heavily from her seat, but he kept his eyes on the doctor. He thought back to that night at the Donmar, and knew that if he looked at Mal while recounting what had happened, not only would she start to cry, but he feared he wouldn’t be able to control himself either, knowing the torment it caused her.

“She was very upset,” he started again, his voice shaking, “she got loud, and I shut the door so no one else would hear our argument.”

“What exactly  _were_  you arguing about?”

Tom glanced around the room again, trying to organize his racing thoughts, “she was crying, saying that there was no point in us trying to ‘fix’ her, because it wasn’t worth it,” his lip shook dangerously again and he bit it. After another shaking breath, “I was trying to tell her that she wasn’t broken, that we would get her through this,  _together_.”

“Then what happened?”

Now his lip quaked freely and he couldn’t control it. His chin shook and he ran a hand over his face vigorously, looking down at his lap, “she came up to me, saying something about how I could never find her attractive again after what had happened to her. That I would always see her as damaged goods.”

“And then she groped you?”

There was a soft, tiny whimper that escaped from Mal at that moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her face fall into her hands while she cried quietly. In an effort to continue, he stuttered, “s-she…grabbed me.”

“Please Tom,” Dr. Myers looked from him, to Mal, who was silently vibrating in her chair, “Mallory, please, look at Tom,” she said firmly. Mal heaved a heavy breath and looked up, wiping her swollen eyes. She looked from the doctor, to Tom, and tears continued to stream down her face as the doctor continued, “Tom, please, tell me what she did.”

He glanced over at Mal, whose face was scrunched in agony, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes. He took another deep breath and continued, “she…she came over to me and said something about how I would never want to fuck her again,” his voice cracked. “Then she reached down between us and…grabbed me…”

“She grabbed your genitals?” it sounded so mechanical coming from the older woman’s mouth, but Tom still felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment as he nodded. The doctor looked over at Mal, then back to Tom, “what happened next?”

He took a deep, quivering breath, “I think she realized what she had done. S-she stepped back and started to cry.”

Dr. Myers began to nod, then turned her attention towards Mal, “Mallory, do you know  _why_  you did what you did?”

Mal started to quickly shake her head, then stopped and wiped more tears from her face, “I was  _so_  upset. I was raving like a lunatic. I felt horrible afterwards…after I saw the look on Tom’s face.”

The doctor nodded calmly, then continued, as she wrote something on her notepad, “it’s not unheard of, for victims of an attack like yours, to lash out at those closest to them. Let me ask you both something; Mal, do you trust Tom?”

Mal’s face relaxed for a second, her grief disappeared for a moment as she stared at the psychiatrist, “of  _course_  I do,” she said quickly, looking amazed that she had even asked.

“And Tom, do you trust Mallory?”

Tom nodded quickly, “completely.”

The doctor smiled softly and jotted something else onto her notepad. She looked back up at them, “so you would both say that the two of you comfortable with each other, and with how your relationship is right now?”

Tom looked over at Mal; she had sat back in her chair and had a hand over her mouth. She glanced over at him, and it was the first time their eyes had connected since sitting down for the session with Dr. Myers. Her eyes were pink and sore from trying to contain her tears. She looked so unhappy, and so worried, it tugged at his chest; a gaping hole that felt like it was being filled with the pain he saw on Mal’s face.

“I just want her to feel better,” he blurted out, looking back at the doctor. “I want her to heal from this, however she is able to. I just want her to…to be…her old self again.” He took a deep breath, swallowing his trembling tears, “if she wants to be with me, when she feels ready for something like that, then I’ll be there for her. If she just wants to be friends, I’ll still be there for her. I just want her to feel comfortable and safe.”

“But you understand that the healing process is going to be difficult for her? The road ahead of her is long and contains many potential pitfalls, and she will need you and other members of her support unit to be there for her, no matter what?”

Tom felt himself stiffen, “no matter what,” he repeated.

Dr. Myers nodded and smiled serenely at him, then turned back to Mal, “all right,” she sighed. “Mallory, I think it’s time we start that exercise we discussed in our first session.”

Mal went pale, and even as more tears fell from her tired eyes, she ignored them and nodded. She struggled for another deep breath, “all right,” her voice quiet, resigned.

Tom watched the two women for a moment, not knowing what was going to happen, until the doctor seemed to take pity on him, “Tom, this is what we call exposure therapy. Mallory and I discussed the many different avenues of approaching her therapy, and we came to the conclusion that this would be the most effective for her.”

“ _Exposure therapy?_ ” Tom repeated questioningly.

Dr. Myers nodded, “we both thought it would be good for you to sit in on this session, so that you can see the progress she makes as we move forward, and so you can get an idea of what Mallory is dealing with,” she took a breath, and resituated in her chair. “Exposure therapy is, at the heart of the matter, recounting the traumatic ordeal enough times so that it no longer has the effect on your self-conscious and your well-being. It’s essentially asking the victim to revisit the attack over and over again in order to desensitize them from what happened. We use it often for rape victims and for people suffering from PTSD.”

Tom stared at her, unsure of what he should say, or  _if_  he needed to say anything at all. Dr. Myers smirked at him, “It’s similar– in a  _very_  basic sense – to practicing a speech in front of a mirror or close family members when preparing to speak in front of a large crowd, in order to get used to the fright of speaking in front of everyone.”

“S-so, Mal has to talk about…t-the…” Tom stuttered uncontrollably.

“The rape,” the doctor finished for him, and nodded. “With the practice of exposure therapy, it will eventually dull the memory – in a sense – and in conjunction with exercises that will help desensitize her when she is near the actual location where the rape occurred, Mallory should be able to recover quite well.” She turned back to Mal, “when you’re ready, Mallory.”

Tom wanted to stop them. He wanted to leap from his chair and scream at the top of his lungs that he couldn’t be here for this. He couldn’t bear to listen to Mal explain what had happened. He knew what had been done to her, and knowing just the  _word_  was enough. He still battled with the image that his imagination had created for him – of her cowering in the back seat of her car – and it made him nauseous to think that he would hear more details. He remained seated, frozen within his chair, eyes wide and horrified as Mal cleared her throat and in a shaking, small voice, began to speak.

“I was training for a new movie with the guys,” she started.

“Who are ‘the guys’?” Dr. Myers asked calmly.

Mal glanced up, wringing her hands in her lap, “Russell and Joe, I’ve worked with them for years.”

Dr. Myers nodded, and motioned for Mal to continue as she wrote something on her notepad. Mal took another breath, letting out a long sigh, “we finished late. It was almost nine – we’d been having a rough time coordinating and we were all exhausted. The guys were going to have a drink down the road, but I had an appointment in the morning, so I was gonna head straight home.”

Tom realized he was gripping the arms of his chair, digging his fingernails into the soft fabric, as he tried in vain to not imagine everything Mal was saying.

“I locked up,” she sighed again, “and headed out to the parking lot.” Her lip shook, but she inhaled sharply through her nose and battled on, “I didn’t look around when I got outside. The area is mostly businesses and office buildings. There’s usually no one around that late.”

She glanced at Tom out of the corner of her eye, and he withdrew his hands from the arms of the chair and hugged himself. He brought one hand up to cover his mouth and chin, and she looked back at the doctor, who was watching her closely.

“I-I…I couldn’t find my keys right away,” Mal stuttered, running a hand through her hair, “I was reaching into my bag, trying to find them, when I felt something hard and cold against my back.”

“Your rapist had a gun,” the doctor said, less of a question and more of a statement.

Mal nodded slowly, “h-he grabbed my bag, told me if I moved he would shoot me.” She wiped away a stray tear and inhaled again, “he unlocked the car and threw my bag away. He made me get into the backseat,” her voice sounded far away, as if she was speaking from another room.

Tom gripped his face tightly, unaware that he left finger marks on his skin when he moved his hand up into his hair as Mal spoke. He felt shaky and nauseous, and every time she opened her mouth to continue, his heart felt like it was skipping a beat – as if his whole body was hanging on her words, waiting for it to be over so it wouldn’t have to deal with the horror of her ordeal any more – he could only imagine what it felt like to have actually  _gone through_  the attack like Mal had.

“He smelled like motor oil,” Mal sighed, she looked acquiescent and numb, even as a random tear fell from her watery eyes, “and sweat. His clothes were disgusting.” She ran a hand through her hair again, trying to gather herself again, “he was on top of me, he ripped my leggings…h-he spit in his hand before he…before he…” she trailed off and a fresh new wave of tears erupted. Her trembling fingers covered her mouth as she closed her eyes and let the tears come. Tom watched helplessly, then looked over at Dr. Myers, who wore a look of subdued understanding, which infuriated and comforted him at the same time.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, Mallory,” she said in a soft, encouraging voice.

Mal nodded, her face still buried in her hands. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to blow her nose, and when she was done, she looked up at the doctor and Tom. She looked tired, and physically drained. When she looked at Tom, her eyes searched his, but he had no idea what to say to her.

Mal looked back to Dr. Myers and swallowed, “he raped me,” she said flatly.

The doctor nodded, “how long did it last?”

Mal shrugged, “I’m not sure, not very long.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Mal nodded, then tried to smile as her chin quivered again, “I guess he thought he hadn’t done  _enough_ ,” she attempted a chuckle, but it died in her throat. She looked over at Tom, who still had his hand over his mouth. He was looking sickly and had tears welling in his eyes. Mal quickly turned away from him, looking back down at the floor, “he hit me, I don’t know how many times. When I woke up, he was gone, and Russell was above me, calling the ambulance.”

“Is there anything else you remember about that night?” the doctor asked softly.

Mal looked up at her, taking a shaking breath and running her hand through her hair again, “I remember waking up again, in the hospital. They told me I was _lucky_. They did the rape test – or whatever it’s called. They had me give a statement to the police…and a description.”

“Do you remember his face?” Tom wasn’t sure why he asked, for some reason the question had fluttered through his mind and raced down to his mouth without him even considering it, it fell from his lips before he could control it.

Mal looked over at him, her eyes wide with a reserved kind of horror as she nodded, “I don’t think I’ll  _ever_  forget that face.”

Dr. Myers cleared her throat, finished writing something in her notebook, then looked up at the two of them. Her face was serene and hard to read, “that was _very_  good, Mallory,” she started. “You’re a very brave woman. Did you know she was so brave, Tom?”

Tom felt himself smirk, even though it seemed like he had forgotten how to smile, “I knew that  _years_  ago. Mal’s always been one of the strongest, most independent and fearless women I’ve ever known.”

The corner of Mal’s mouth twitched, she glanced at him quickly with the shadow of a smile across her lips. Dr. Myers smiled at them, then folded her hands on her lap, “Mallory, how do you feel, having gone over the details of the attack?”

Mal looked back at her psychiatrist, sighed, and leaned back in her chair, “I don’t know. I  _guess_  it feels better to talk about it…even though remembering it all over again is not something I really  _want_  to do.”

The doctor smirked, “but you understand  _why_  it’s important for you to do so?”

Mal nodded, “I do. I know that, in time, remembering what happened to me will not affect me as much. It won’t… _hurt_  as much.”

Dr. Myers nodded, “with time, therapy, and hard work, you will get past this, and be able to put it behind you. But there are a few things you need to know. You need to know that being able to talk about what happened is only the first step, you’ve still got a long road ahead of you – one that both Tom and I want to help you navigate.”

Mal began to nod, watching the doctor closely. Dr. Myers continued, “you also need to know that labeling your attack as an ‘attack,’ is a form of denial. When I counsel rape victims, I encourage them to actually  _use_  the word ‘rape.’ It gives you one more weapon in your arsenal in your fight against PTSD.”

“So saying ‘I was  _raped_ ,’ instead of ‘I was attacked’?” Mal asked.

The doctor nodded, “exactly. Also, you need to understand a very important aspect of rape, and those who commit rape. The act of raping another human being; of taking away their free will in that moment, and forcing them into such a normally-loving and personal act, is one of the most unforgiveable and abhorrent things a person can do. We may never understand  _why_  he did it, or why he chose you. But you need to understand that it will always be something that you will have to live with. No matter how much therapy you go through, it will always be a part of you. It’s how you choose to  _deal_  with it that matters.”

Mal wiped away a fresh tear as it trickled down her cheek, “that’s why I feel  _so_ bad about what I did to Tom,” she cried.

Tom sat up in his seat, suddenly alert. He turned toward Mal and reached his arm out towards her. She looked at his outstretched arm like it might bite her. After a moment of hesitation, she tentatively reached out and put her hand in his. He squeezed her fingers, trying his best to smile and send her positive thoughts via their connection, “you didn’t  _rape_  me, Mal. What you did was just a mistake, nothing more. You don’t have to feel so bad about it.”

Mal watched him for a moment as her tears fell. She smiled a shaking, weak smile, but quickly covered it when she began to cry again.

Dr. Myers watched the two of them for a moment, then cleared her throat again, “you’re very lucky, Mallory, to have friends like Tom.”

Mal glanced over at the doctor, then back at Tom, “I know,” she said with a small smile.

“Our hour is almost up, but I want to go over one more thing with  _both_  of you, before you go,” the doctor sighed. Her change in tone caused both Mal and Tom to tear their eyes from each other and look back at her. She smiled, “I can see that you two are close, and a close friend is what you need right now, Mallory. But I  _implore_  both of you to manage your feelings appropriately. It’s been known to happen, during the healing process, that a victim will inadvertently apply misguided feelings onto their caregiver, or close friend. It’s a form of transference, and it can wreak havoc on your healing process.”

Mal let go of Tom’s hand and looked at the doctor for a moment, “what are you saying?”

Dr. Myers smile shifted uncomfortably, “I’m just asking you both to be careful. You are in a delicate emotional state, Mallory; it’s only been two weeks since you were attacked." Mal interrupted, "you mean raped," she said flatly. Dr. Myers smiled stiffly, then nodded, "yes," she cleared her throat, "you’re in a fragile state of mind Mallory, and since you are staying with Tom at the moment, I wanted to warn you both against trying anything… _romantic_ , at least not until you’re ready.”

Tom saw the look on Mal’s face, even from the side he could see that flash in her eyes – like a rebellious child being scolded. Before she said anything that she might regret, he cleared his throat and swiftly interjected, “I am dedicated to helping Mal recover. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her healing process.”

The doctor smiled and nodded at him, and the three of them stood up to say their good-byes. Mal scheduled her appointment for the following week with the receptionist, then the two of them left the office and walked to Tom’s car. The ride home was quiet; every time he glanced over at her she was staring blankly out the window. It wasn’t until they were turning onto his street that he finally broke the silence and asked, “are you okay?”

She turned to him and nodded, her face blank, still raw and tired from crying so much, “just tired,” she said softly. She didn’t speak again until it was time to leave for the Donmar. Tom had his usual excited butterflies in his stomach, even though he’d been doing the play for almost a month now. He buzzed around the house, getting ready to go, as Mal leaned against the arm of the couch, watching him. Once he was finally ready, they got back into the car and headed back into the city.

Mal would watch the play from her usual spot; she didn’t like to sit in the audience seats, the idea of sitting with all those strangers made her uncomfortable. In the two weeks that she’d been staying with Tom, she’d gotten used to watching his performance from backstage. There was a spot near the stage door where she could watch without being in anyone’s way. When Tom came off stage for the in-between scenes, he would give her a quick wink, or flash her a bloody smile to try and make her laugh. She loved watching his process – she knew his routine for preparing before each performance, and she made sure to stay out of his way. It was the fury, the unbitten rage he revealed in each show that amazed her. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, even during the more harrowing scenes.

During the shows, Mal tried her best to make herself invisible. Josie and the rest of the cast and crew were friendly enough, Tom hadn’t gone into details about why Mal was there, but he had told her that it wouldn’t be an issue. On evenings when they put on two shows, Mal was included as part of the crew. When they finished the first show, they would all have a late lunch together, and it felt nice to be included in their conversations and laughter – even if she didn’t always feel like being in a crowd. During the last show of the night, it had become routine for Mal to wait in Tom’s dressing room while the final scene played out. She would sit in that small room; a few stagehands would run by every so often, and then she would hear the roar of the applause. It would be another ten minutes before Tom showed up, covered in blood from his death scene, and she would help him clean up before he changed.

Mal sat in front of the makeup mirror, looking over the photos and gifts Tom had been given by fans and fellow thespians. She smirked at some of the letters he had taped to the edge of the mirror. She glanced at her own reflection for a moment, then looked away with an awkward turn in her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something shift in the darkness. She turned to look through the open door, out into the dimly lit hallway that led up to the front of the theater. Simon, the stagehand who was in charge of the lighting, had run by a few minutes ago, to prepare for the finale. As Mal watched the empty, dark hallway from her seat, she half expected to see him run by again.

Feeling anxious, she called out in an unsteady voice, “hello?”

There was no response,  _because there’s no one there you idiot_ , she scolded herself. She glared back at her reflection in the mirror, when she saw the movement again. In a rush of panic, she leaped to her feet and spun around, placing herself behind the chair so that it was between her and the door. She stared at the doorway, watching the shadows. The roar of applause echoed down the hallway, flooding into her ears. She stepped backwards, covering her ears with her hands, her heart thumping loudly in her head. Her breath quickened, she heaved uncontrollably as the shadows played tricks on her eyes. Her back connected with the wall and she yelped; she covered her mouth in shock. For a split second she saw the face from the parking lot standing in the doorway, sneering at her with the gun in his hand.

Mal squeezed her eyes shut tightly and shook her head. When she opened her eyes again, the vision of the monster that haunted her dreams was gone. Relieved, she blinked again, and then he was back – leering at her with the same gruesome grin he had had while in the back of her car. She let out a tiny squeal and sank to the floor as he knees gave out. She shook violently and hugged her knees to her chest, burying her head in her arms and sobbing hysterically.

“Mal?” She heard the voice from what sounded like miles away. She could barely hear him over the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t dare move; afraid to see that horrifying face again. When she felt hands on her arms, her head lifted in a startled scream to find Tom’s pale, blood-splattered face watching her.

“ _Mal_ ,” he said forcibly, gripping her arms tightly. He looked as terrified as she felt. It took her a moment to realize who he was, but once she had remembered, she threw her arms around his neck. She felt the cold stage blood squish between them as she pulled him close, but she didn’t care. Tom’s arms folded around her and one of his hands went to the back of her head.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly in her ear, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper. She quaked within his arms, his grip around her tightened as he pulled her closer. “It’s alright Mal,” he breathed as she cried into his shoulder.

After a moment, she was finally able to catch her breath, and with a sputter she was able to control her tears. She inhaled deeply and pulled back from him, her hands at his sides – not wanting to let him go. “I thought I saw –” her voice suddenly failed her.

Tom nodded, placing his hands on either side of her face, running his palms gently over her hair, “it’s alright sweetheart. There’s nobody there. You’re okay.”

She looked up at him, his eyes were so troubled and concerned, it hurt her to know she did that to him. Her lip shook again and she covered it with the back of her hand, “I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered. Shaking her head, “I’m so stupid.”

“No,” Tom lifted her face with a finger, she looked up into his eyes as he smiled down at her, “you are  _not_. You’ve had a very hard, very upsetting day, but we’re going home. You’re  _safe_ Mal, I won’t let anything happen to you.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is heavy on healing and the dramatic and stressful act of trying to help a loved one heal. There is some violence, also, so please tread lightly.

Christmas was upon them before either Tom or Mal were prepared for it. Susan called every day to ask her sister to come visit her for the holiday weekend, but Mal continued to refuse. Sue tried to talk to Tom, even going as far as to invite him as well; thinking it might convince Mal to go if Tom were join her, but Mal refused to change her mind.

“It’s not  _you_ , Susan,” he told her the night before Christmas Eve, as he sat in his bedroom with the door closed. Mal had shoved her phone into his hand when Sue had called and wouldn’t give her a chance to say no, so Tom had been stuck trying to console the poor woman he hardly knew. “She doesn’t want to do _anything_  right now, least of all anything holiday-related.”

Susan scoffed – she groaned and lamented about the entire situation, but in the end, she was forced to cut the phone call short when her children demanded her attention. She made Tom promise to tell Mal she would call on Christmas Day, and Tom promised over and over that he would make sure Mal answered the phone.

He emerged from his room and set the phone on the table in the hallway as he walked by. He had three days off from  _Coriolanus_ , and with the physicality of the play, and taking care of Mal – it felt like a three month holiday. The house wasn’t very cheery; he had put up a small tree, but he had only had time to drape a string of lights around it – the ornaments he owned were still packed away. He tried to play Christmas music when he  _was_  home, but Mal would usually find a reason to turn it off. She never used to like silence; she used to always have some classic rock playing while they worked out in the gym, or if it was a really intense workout, she had some techno playlist she would always turn on. Now, she only seemed to find peace when the entire house was silent.

He stepped into the living room and found her in the chair by the window. She had adopted that chair as her own, but Tom didn’t mind. When he had had the free time, it would be where he usually sat to read, but seeing Mal lounging in it now put a sober smile on his face.  _This whole scene would be so perfect,_  he thought,  _if only she was here on different circumstances._

She glanced over her shoulder at him when he came into the room; even though it was just the two of them in the small house – and  _had_  been just the two of them since Ben had left three weeks ago – but she still found herself jumpier than usual. She always made it a point to know where Tom was, if he wasn’t in the room with her. There were times where, if she called his name and he didn’t answer fast enough, she would start to panic. Her dreams had become an issue as well, despite working with Dr. Myers in her therapy sessions. There were nights where he could hear her tossing and groaning all the way from his room, and he would lie awake praying that she would find some peace and be able to rest. Then there were the  _bad_  nights, when an ear piercing scream would ring through the house, and inside of a minute he was at her bedroom door, finding her trembling and in tears. She would sleep with him on those nights; he would lie next to her, sometimes with his arm around her, until he knew she was asleep. Only then would he allow himself to close his eyes and take a breath, and despite their closeness, it only put him more on edge to know that she was still suffering.

Dr. Myers was a huge help – but she couldn’t fix everything. Tom went to more of Mal’s sessions; sometimes just to wait for her in the waiting room with the friendly receptionist, other times he was invited into the doctor’s office and would sit in on the discussion of the day. He found the process of therapy very interesting – but incredibly overwhelming at the same time.

At their last session, which Tom had spent in the waiting room on his phone, Dr. Myers had asked to speak with him after Mal’s hour had finished. Mal seemed to be alright, sitting in the waiting room without him, so he followed the doctor into her office and sat anxiously across from her, waiting to find out what she wanted to talk to him about.

“How do  _you_  think Mallory is doing, Tom? As the person who sees her daily, and knew her  _before_ ,” she asked.

Tom thought for a moment, fiddling with his fingers and examining the texture of the carpet that lay before him, “she’s definitely not her  _old_ self,” he started. “But that’s to be expected, isn’t it?”

Dr. Myers smiled at him and began to nod, “it isn’t a quick and easy fix; coming back from something like this.”

He nodded, “I know. I’m just…” he trailed off for a moment, unsure of what he wanted to say exactly.

The doctor studied him as he tried to form his thoughts. When he continued to look stuck, she calmly urged, “tell me what’s on your mind Tom.”

He sighed, looked up at her and scoffed; the frustration prominent in his face and tone, “I feel  _useless_. I can’t offer her any kind of  _healing_. I don’t know what to say, when she’s having a bad day. The most I can offer her is a pat on the back and a hug and to tell her it’ll be alright, but I don’t  _know_  if it’ll be alright.” He felt a huge weight fall from his shoulders once he’d gotten that out.

Dr. Myers nodded, laced her fingers together on her lap, and looked straight at him, determined. “Tom, you are doing  _exactly_  what Mallory needs right now.”

His brow furrowed in confusion, “what’s that?”

“You’re  _there for her_. That’s more than most rape victims can ask for; someone who cares for them unconditionally. Someone who  _wants_  to help them, someone wants the best for them. You don’t have to be a professional to be supportive, and you’re doing an  _amazing_  job.”

He felt a suspicious smirk erupt at the corner of his mouth, “I am?”

She nodded, “Mallory’s told me all that you do for her; the attention you give her, the comfort you offer. You’re patient, you’re understanding, and most of all, you do it out of genuine  _love._  You’re not doing it to get something out of her, and you’re not playing the part to act the hero – you genuinely care for her and want what’s best for her. In my book; that’s the  _best_  kind of support Mallory could ever ask for.”

He took a moment to let her words sink in, and was surprised to suddenly feel stinging tears forming behind his eyes, his face flushed. He cleared his throat, trying to blink away the tears, and looked back down at the carpet, “so d-do you…do you t-think,” he struggled. He took a few deep breaths, then swallowed his overwhelming urge to cry, and looked back at the doctor, “do you think she’s doing well?”

Dr. Myers smiled softly, then slowly nodded, “Mallory is a  _very_  strong woman. You know that. She is resilient, and she will come back from this. It will take time, and that’s usually the hardest part,  _time._  But I believe we are making progress in our sessions, she is beginning to open up more and more, and she doesn’t reject my suggestions. I am glad you are there for her Tom,” she leaned forward and her eyes twinkled in the light, “I  _really_  am.”

Now, as he stood in the doorway to the living room, watching Mal and thinking back to that conversation with her doctor, he realized he was smiling. It took a few minutes for Mal to look back at him, and when she did, she saw that small smile.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked.

Tom shook his head, and stepped into the room. He wandered over to the end of the sofa, where the glass of wine he had poured himself before Susan’s phone call was still sitting on the end table. Mal had her own wine glass clutched against her chest as she looked out the window. He sat and watched her for another moment; the darkness outside illuminated by a cloudy moon, the few snowflakes that fell twinkled in the dim light as they attached themselves to the window pane and began to melt.

“Do you want to decorate the tree?” he asked, already knowing her answer.

She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, her face still turned to the window.

He sighed, sipped his wine, and snuggled into his over-stuffed couch. They sat like that for a while, the silence enveloping them, seeping into their unspoken words and undeclared feelings. It was odd, hearing his house so hushed. Though at the same time it was steadying,  _peaceful,_  and he thought for a moment that he could understand why Mal liked it this way.

He exhaled slowly, feeling his body relax as the air expelled from his lungs. The stress and physical strain from the show felt like it was slipping away – at least for the next few days. He looked around the room; the soft light of the one lamp that had been lit, the subtle twinkle of the Christmas tree, the quiet hum of the heater. It all wove together in a calming melody in his mind, and he leaned back further into the couch, resting his head against the back.

After another moment of the serene silence, he cleared his throat, “what do you want to do tomorrow?”

Mal didn’t look at him right away. He knew that she was waiting; she could tell from the tone of his question that he was itching to make a suggestion. She also knew that they  _both_  knew she would rather do absolutely  _nothing_.

Tom began to grin, “do you wanna go to the gym?”

She eyed him for a moment, then let the skepticism seep across her face. Her eyebrow cocked at an absurd angle and he thought he saw the twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth, but she contained it and narrowed her eyes at him. “ _Why_  would I want to do that?”

He knew how to approach this; having spent the better part of a month with her had given him a crash course in what to say and what  _not_  to say – and  _how_  to say it. He took a breath, and in as merry and lighthearted tone as he could muster, “I thought it might make you feel better, getting back to what you do best?”

Her expression changed so quickly, it was as if she’d been smacked in the face. Her sarcastic skepticism disappeared, and was replaced with the disturbing, heart-wrenching look of sorrow and agony. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she put her wine glass down in order to cover her mouth as she struggled to hold back her sobs. Tom jumped up from his comfortable position on the couch, and was across the room and at her knees before she was able to bolt from the room. He crouched down in front of her in her chair, she drew her legs up and hugged them to her chest, trying as hard as she could to burrow inside herself and disappear.

He looked up at her as he knelt before her, and slowly laid his hands on her shins. In the beginning – she hadn’t wanted to be touched, by  _anyone_ , not even Tom. It had gotten easier for her, over the past few weeks, to relax around him, at least when they were alone. She didn’t flinch when he brushed by her, or accidentally grazed her arm, but she still tried to fight him off when he wanted to comfort her. It was as if – in her mind – his comfort was more than she could bear.

She didn’t push his hands away, and he waited patiently for her to catch her breath and try to collect herself enough to be able to speak.

“Mallory,” he said softly, gently rubbing his thumbs over the taut muscles in her legs, “talk to me.”

She looked down at him through her tears, but she slowly got control of herself. She leaned her forehead into the palm of her hand and took one last deep breath before swallowing her misery and letting out a shaky sigh. “What is the point,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if she was trying to sound as emotionless as she could.  _Or maybe that’s how she’s feeling now,_ he thought, _after so many ups and downs, maybe she’s becoming more and more emotionless_. That thought frightened him, it sent an uncomfortable twinge through his gut. Mal took another shaky breath, “what was the point of  _all_  the training, all the fighting…” she trailed off for a moment, her eyes going blank. She blinked away the depths of that abyss and looked back at him solemnly, “if I couldn’t even protect myself when I needed to?”

He felt his lips quiver as he drew breath to try and console her, but for one of the few times in his life, he was at a loss for words. He had struggled throughout this entire ordeal with  _how_  to talk to Mal, how to get through to her, and what he could  _say_  that would somehow help her. In the end, all he felt comfortable doing was being her shoulder to cry on, her rock to crash against – but he needed to be  _more_  than that now. If she was going to come back from this, he would need to be the one to reach down and help pull her up out of that bottomless pit. Therapy with Dr. Myers was one thing, but the help and support of someone who actually  _cares_  deeply for you, was something completely different.

Tom smiled one of the tiniest smiles he could, his eyes creased with his prominent laugh lines, “tell me, what was that exercise you used to do? The one that looked like Tai Chi?”

Through her fading tears, she furrowed her brow in quizzical look, “how do you know about  _that_? I never taught you that during training.”

His smile widened and shook his head, “no,” he chuckled lightly, “but I remember waking up one morning in the hotel room, and seeing you practicing it out on the terrace.” He didn’t consider it a lie – not telling her that he had first seen her do it in the gym when she thought she had been alone – and it  _was_ true, he  _had_  seen her practicing one morning when he had woken up after one of their long, passionate nights together. “It’s called Bal-something, right? Balzuang?”

For the first time in weeks, Mal broke into a smile. Not a grin, or a smirk, but a full, glorious smile. She looked down at him, wiping tears from her cheeks. Then she sniffed, laughed an uncomfortable half-giggle, and playfully corrected him “ _Baguazhang._ ”

Tom’s own smile grew more, widening as her spirits began to lift. He rubbed her legs with his hands, gently squeezing through the fabric of her sweatpants, “why don’t we go to the gym tomorrow and you can do some  _Baguazhang,_ ” he sounded it out slowly. Then he shrugged, “maybe it might help? It’s all about the mind and body, right? At the very least, it could help you to let off some steam?” He grinned reassuringly, and her smile faltered only a fraction; his enthusiasm was starting to rub off on her.

She sighed and shrugged, almost like a pouting child who was just asked if a sweet chocolaty treat would make them feel better, “maybe.” She didn’t sound completely convinced, but there was a suspiciously intrigued tone in her voice when she asked, “would the gym even be open on Christmas Eve?”

He grinned and quickly nodded, “Russ and Joe said they would open it  _just_  for you.”

Her puffy eyes went wide, and for the span of a heartbeat he was afraid she would be furious with him. Instead, her face softened and she smirked, “you talked to them?”

He nodded, “they called me a couple of days ago, asking about you. They – and I – thought it might be a good idea.”

Mal began to nod, then leaned back in her chair and let her legs slide to the floor. He made room as she relaxed, placing his hands on her knees once he was able. He looked up at her, from his perch on the floor in front of her, and watched as she mulled things over.

There was a long silence before she finally looked back at him, eyes solemn and resigned, a shade of shame glimmering in them. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a burden on you Tom…especially during the play. You’ve been taking such great care of me; making sure I go to all my doctor’s appointments, humoring me when I don’t want to be alone…I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I feel like all I do is get in your way and exasperate you.”

His heart sank, he felt his face flush quickly with a rush of anguish, “you are _anything_  but a burden sweetheart.” She smirked drearily, but he could tell she didn’t believe him. He cleared his throat and took a breath to steady himself and collect his thoughts. He could feel Mal’s eyes on him; studying him. He looked up at her with his wide blue eyes, “having you here the last few weeks has been wonderful,” It sounded so uninspiring and trivial when it came out of his mouth, but it was all he could think of to say. She had been able to stump his ability to speak ever since they had first met, and this time was no different. He felt utterly inadequate in what he wanted to tell her, and it frustrated him.

Her smile was tiny, but it was still a smile; glimmering in the darkness. She brushed some of her hair out of her eyes, grinning meekly at him, until the grin faded, “until you have to leave for Toronto next month.”

Now he smirked, and he felt his own spirits lift momentarily. He hadn’t had the chance to tell her his news, and now was the perfect moment. “ _Actually_ ,” he started, smiling brightly up at her. Mal’s eyebrow cocked inquisitively at his impish grin, and he chuckled as he continued, “Josie and the crew have asked if we can extend the show for another few weeks.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded, “what?” She struggled for a moment, but she couldn’t contain the relief that had exploded across her face, no matter how hard she tried, “what about  _Crimson Peak_? I thought filming started the first week of February?”

He shook his head slowly, “they don’t need me right away. I’m in London till the 14th.” He grinned widely at her surprised smile, then playfully added, “you have a doctor’s appointment next week, by the way,” he chuckled.

Mal was in a slightly cheerier mood the rest of the night, and as they ate their dinner quietly in the dining room, Tom couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. He watched her clear her plate and rinse it in the sink and smiled to himself; part of him was ecstatic to have her here and ‘play house’ with her, but there was still that smaller voice in the back of his mind screaming  _she’s here because she needs a friend, not because she wants to move in with you, don’t be a selfish bastard!_

The next morning, as they drove through the quiet city, he glanced over at her every few miles to see if she was alright. She had expressed anxiety about going to the gym, but thankfully they weren’t going all the way back to the one in Staffordshire. She wasn’t ready to go back there, not yet, and he didn’t know if she ever  _would_  be ready for that. He followed the directions Russell had sent him, and when they found a parking space in the garage, both Russell and Joe were waiting for them with beaming smiles.

“Mally-Girl!” Joe called as she climbed out of the car. Tom watched apprehensively as Joe wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and her momentarily stricken face at his brisk embrace. A smile quickly replaced her sudden fear, and Tom relaxed a bit as she hugged Joe back.

“Tom, long time,” Russ, an older man who had worked on  _The Avengers_  with Mal and the rest of her team, greeted Tom with a firm handshake and a warm smile. He clapped Tom on the shoulder; he was a large man, taller than Tom and at least twice as wide – all muscle. He had been the one who had helped get both of the Chris’s into their impeccable physical shape while training for the movie, and he had always had an imposing, slightly daunting way about him. He was friendly enough, and was very protective of Mal, which Tom respected and understood.

Russell led him away from the car as Tom glanced back at Mal and Joe. She was smiling as Joe was animatedly telling her some fantastical story while they made their way towards the gym entrance. Russ put his arm across Tom’s shoulders in a friendly gesture, “I see you’ve bulked up for your play?” Tom smirked up at him, and Russell’s large red face twinkled, “it looks good on you, mate.”

“It’s been a  _lot_  of work,” Tom replied absentmindedly, his ears straining to listen for Mal’s voice. He heard her behind them, still giggling with Joe, and he breathed a little easier.

“I’ve wanted to ask you,” Russell’s voice lowered distinctively, “how’s she doing?” Unable to answer that question in a short or concise answer, Tom looked up at the older man with a mixture of worry, hope, and regret. Russell seemed to read his concerns immediately, and began to nod. “I thought so. She’s a tough one, but that isn’t really something you can just forget about.”

Tom looked down at the floor as they walked. Russ led him over to the warm up mats, showed him the equipment available to them, and gave him a friendly pat on the back before walking back towards Mal. Tom pulled off his sweatshirt and started to stretch, partly listening to the three of them as they chatted near the doorway. After a few minutes, Mal and Joe joined him on the mats and started to warm up as well.

“So it’s just the four of us?” Tom asked Joe.

A buff, overly-tanned Australian, Joe was energetic and lively. He had worked with Scarlett on set, and Tom hadn’t had much time to get to know him, but he knew he liked to joke around, and was always laughing. He beamed at Tom, nodding enthusiastically, “one of the perks of being part-owners.”

Tom saw Mal smirk out of the corner of his eye. He turned to her, his legs stretched out in a lunge, and she smiled up at him from the floor where she was warming up. “What are you gonna do?” he asked with a grin.

She flashed him an easy smile, and it was so wonderful to see the  _Mal_ -smile he remembered and loved.  _Two smiles in two days_ , he thought to himself with a grin. It was that same bright, warm,  _welcoming_  smile that had sent his heart into a flutter when they had first met. The kind of smile that brightened the room, that was contagious and infectious no matter your mood. He wasn’t sure if it was being back in her element once again, or being among two of her best friends that had lifted her spirits so, but he felt lighter when he saw her so happy.

“I’m gonna be over there,” she gestured over her shoulder to the corner of the gym that was empty, where there was no exercise equipment to get in her way. It was the perfect spot for her Baguazhang _._

The four of them set about at their own paces. Tom found a jump rope and started skipping it in the corner; making sure not to face Mal in case she got annoyed and thought he was keeping an ever-watchful eye on her. He could  _still_ see her though, in his peripheral vision, and as he hopped over the rope, quickening his pace, he could see her moving methodically, in her corner. She performed the same movements he had seen her do all those years ago, slow and thoughtful; each extension of her arm or leg had a purpose and a reason behind it, and the patience and ease on her face made him grin happily.

After a while, there was a rhythmic pace within the gym. Russell had put on a work-out CD on the other side of the room, and it echoed throughout the large room while he worked on one of the many weight-lifting machines. Joe was working with one of those towers with the rods sticking out of it that he would systematically strike with his hands and feet – Tom didn’t know what the apparatus was called. Tom himself had abandoned the jump rope and had moved to the pull-up bar, where he was counting his reps as he tried to control his breathing. He had to admit that this set up was  _completely_  different than the workout routine he had gotten used to at the Donmar. It was energizing to be around friends who could all work together without getting in each other’s way; each was responsible for their own activity and could govern their time as they pleased.

Mal had finished her Baguazhang and had moved to the punching bag hanging on the other side of the room, close to where Joe was karate-chopping the wooden rods and grunting every time he did. Each time Tom lifted himself up and rested his chin on the bar for a breath, he would do a quick span across the room to see how she was doing. He couldn’t tell how she was  _really_ , not with her back to him, but she looked to be deep in thought as she concentrated on striking the bag as it swayed.

He dropped from the bar and sat down on the mat, preparing to start a round of crunches. Russ had straightened up on his machine and was taking a drink from his water bottle, and he smiled at Tom as he drank. Tom smiled back, waved, and leaned back to begin his crunches. He linked his hands behind his head and started to control his breathing as he pumped – each time he leaned forward and brought his knees towards his face, he got a glimpse of Mal punching the bag.

He was huffing after several reps and decided to take a break. He got up, lumbered over to where he had set his duffel bag, and pulled out his water bottle. He chugged a few gulps and Russell sauntered over to him, leaning against the wall and looking over Tom’s shoulder at Mal.

“She seems alright,” he said hopefully.

Tom swallowed his last guzzle of the refreshing water, and gasped for a moment. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and glanced over his shoulder at her, then back to Russell, “she’s better than she was.”

Russell nodded, “did she tell you I found her?”

Tom braced himself; he felt his insides run cold at the memory of Mal’s detailed account of her attack back in Dr. Myers office, and nodded slowly, “she did.”

Russell sighed, and for the first time Tom had ever seen, the massive brute looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Tom,” he inhaled deeply, “it was  _bad_.”

Tom closed his eyes and nodded, praying that the conversation would end and Russ wouldn’t go into any more details, “I know.” He took another swig of his water – his mouth was incredibly dry, even though he had just taken a drink only a moment ago. “She told me what he did,” he said in a harsh, breathless voice that didn’t sound like his own.

Russell’s eyes widened, then he hugged his enormous arms to himself and breathed deeply, “poor little Mal,” he said in a quiet voice.

Before Tom could respond, there was a strange sound from behind him. Russ straightened up to look and Tom turned around just in time to see Mal spin around from the punching bag and strike Joe in the face. He had no idea how Joe had gotten so close to her, but as he and Russell dropped what they were doing and rushed towards them, Mal had beaten Joe to the ground and had straddled him. Joe attempted to fight her off; his muscled arms flailed against her blows, but she was feral with rage. Her fists came down like a sheet of lightning, busting the bridge of his nose and causing blood to spurt from his mouth.

Knowing that Mal could easily turn her fury against him, Tom ran to her anyway and threw his arms around her from behind. With all the strength he could muster, he encircled her arms with his own and yanked her up and off of Joe. Russ pulled Joe a few feet across the floor, his hands under the bleeding man’s armpits.

Mal thrashed against Tom’s bear hug as he struggled on his feet with her and almost lost his grip as she fought him. “ _Mal_ ,” he urged, his lips at her ear. He could feel her heart racing, pounding against his arms as he held her. At the sound of his voice, she went limp. The full weight of her fell against him and Tom let out a cry of surprise as she started to fall to the floor. He caught a hold of her, easing her to the ground as he knelt next to her.

She sat in a heap; her face streaked with tears, her hair tousled and damp with sweat. She leaned against him, her face in his chest, and began to sob. He held her tightly; partly to comfort her, but also to make sure she didn’t try to go after Joe again. Joe was crouched a few yards away, with Russell hovering over him. Tom couldn’t see exactly what Mal had done to him, but he was cradling his head gingerly in his hands as Russ looked back at Tom.

“What happened?” Russell asked in a panicked voice, handing Joe a towel.

Tom rubbed Mal’s back as she vibrated against him, but he looked over at Joe to try and hear his response. The wounded Aussie spit blood onto the floor – a chip from a tooth hitting the messy mat where he sat. He struggled to catch his breath, then glared over at Mal. One of his eyes was swelling closed as he looked at them, and he clutched at his ribs with his other arm. He glanced back at Russ, “all I did was come up behind her!” He tentatively placed a palm to the side of his face that was rapidly changing color. “I just jabbed her with my fingers, like we used to play around!”

Tom felt a surge of unrestrained anger rise inside him like bile, “you  _idiot_!” he bellowed. Mal cringed at his raised voice, but he held her against him as her tears began to subside. He directed his wrath towards the bleeding Joe, “you _know_  what happened to her! You  _know_ how she was held at gun point!  _What is the matter with you_?!”

Joe’s glare quickly faded, and on the side of his face that wasn’t turning a sickening shade of purple, Tom could see the realization dawn on him. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He gaped for another moment before Russell stood up and pulled Joe to his feet.

“We’re gonna go, guys,” Russ said briskly. He looked down at where Tom and Mal were crouched on the floor, “you can just lock the door when you leave, alright?”

Tom nodded as Russell nudged the disheveled Joe towards the door. Joe cradled his face, but still glanced back at them as they gathered their belongings, Russell kept one of his powerful arms at Joe’s back to keep him moving.

Once the door had closed behind them, the only sound remaining in the gym was Mal’s erratic breathing. Tom was still idly rubbing her back and arm as he held her. He looked down at her, his own heart thumping violently in his chest. She was clutching at his shirt, and had the side of her face against his ribs. He searched frantically for something to say – whether to lighten the mood or just to try and soothe her, but with the lingering rage that continued to pulse through him, words failed him again. He probably would have punched Joe in the face if Mal hadn’t needed him, he was glad the two men had left quickly.

Mal’s breathing slowed, and her grip on him loosened. She relaxed, and Tom adjusted himself on his knees next to her, loosening his own grip on her just enough to allow her to move. After another moment, he looked down at her, and began to brush the hair out of her face. She didn’t react, didn’t budge or blink at his gesture, she just continued to stare blankly as his hand moved in front of her face.

“Mal?” he asked tentatively.

He wasn’t sure if she would respond; he was worried she was going to have some kind of flash back or panic attack – Dr. Myers had warned him that it could happen. Finally, she stirred, and slowly sat back from him. He sat back on his heels and watched her closely, releasing her from his arms, and she ran her shaking hands through her hair.

She took a trembling breath, “I hope Joe’s alright,” her voice barely above a whisper.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “he’ll be fine.”

She looked towards him, but not directly  _at_  him. Tears fell from her eyes, but she wasn’t crying anymore, they were salty remnants of all the tears she had shed in the past month. “I thought of something,” she sighed, “while I was…hitting him.”

“What’s that?” He watched her carefully.

She continued to look down at the floor, then took a deep breath that sounded sturdier, and raised her face to the ceiling. She closed her eyes for a moment, then grimaced, “I’ve been so  _afraid_ , since… _it_  happened. I’ve been so scared of _everything._ ” She cleared her throat, then turned to him with her dark, wide eyes. “But that fear turned into anger – because I can’t change what happened, and because I can’t  _fix_  it. I’ve been letting it control me, I’ve let it consume me and change who I am.”

Tom felt the white hot twinge of tears in his eyes, he tried to blink them away, but they fell anyway. He wiped them from his face as she watched him. She placed her hand on his, and he gripped her fingers tightly. He felt her wince and realized that her knuckles were raw and bloodied. She smiled serenely for a moment, then it became a more acquiescent contortion of her normally beautiful features. With her eyes closed, she breathed, “if I keep this up, I’ll only end up hurting those around me. I’ll hurt the people I love. I’ll hurt  _you_ , Tom.” He raised his eyes to her; and she didn’t look away, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she continued, “I’m not going to  _allow_  what happened to me, to change who I am…not  _anymore_.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more angst and ‘drama,’ in this chapter. But there might be a light at the end of the tunnel!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual: Warning: mention of rape, complications from it, etc, read at your own risk.

Tom stood in the shower, the steam almost suffocating him, but it felt good on his aching muscles. There were two and a half weeks left of Coriolanus, and he was counting the days. It was riveting, being up on stage every night; he got such an incredible rush from each performance, but it was wearing on him. He needed a break, and was looking forward to the upcoming Crimson Peak shoot.

He stood there, letting the hot water cascade over his shoulders, the pulse of the water massaged his aching back and neck, and he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool tile. Whenever he was home, he tried to relax and not think about work. He tried to center himself, and find a way to release any pent up energy that was left over from the previous performance.

This morning, his method of release, was letting the hot water caress his tired, aching body, while he gently stroked himself. It had been ages since he’d gotten laid, and he hadn’t even had time for a good jerk off; not with his schedule, his exercise routine, and with helping Mal recuperate. He had a busy day ahead of him; what with getting Mal to her doctor’s physical, then helping her move some of her things back to her flat, and then rushing back to the Donmar to prepare for another two-show night.

He leaned his forehead harder against the cool tile, the warm water seeping over his body, eliciting the most thrilling twangs of response from his groin – it felt magical. He hadn’t planned on jerking off in the shower, but in the whirling thoughts of his over-worked brain, a few certain images had flashed before his eyes, and sent a lightning bolt down to his cock, hardening it immediately.

He lifted an arm and leaned it against the tile, resting his forehead in the crook of his arm as he closed his eyes. He found himself remembering something that seemed like a lifetime ago – the last time he and Mal had spent the night together. He wasn’t sure why the memory had popped into his mind. The Avengers shoot had been about to wrap, and they knew they would be going their separate ways once filming was done – so they had spent the last few nights fucking like rabbits. Tom smirked, licking his lips as the steaming water flowed over his face. Their last night in his hotel room had been a wild one, and the positions they had gotten themselves into still amazed him to this day.

Mal had proven in the early days of their tryst that she was more than just limber; she had the physical stamina to outdo him every time, and Tom had struggled to keep up with her. She had been insatiable, but it had been one of the things about her that thrilled him, and kept him coming back for more. On their last night, after making love earlier with the help of the overstuffed armchair that sat in the corner of the hotel room, she had come back to him, purring for more. She had always been strong, and he had enjoyed running his hands over her muscled arms and legs as they had rolled around in the sheets; and when she pulled her on top of her, he felt her powerful thighs wrap around his hips, beginning to gyrate enthusiastically.

She had been demanding in bed, but it hadn’t changed how he felt about her. She would suggest things to him; such as having him lift her legs over his shoulders when they would do it missionary style. This time though, as she quickly guided his stiffened cock inside her – which elicited a low growl from deep in his throat – she gently tapped his thigh, and asked him to pull her up. Confused, but intrigued, and horny as fuck; Tom took her in his arms and lifted her up off of the mattress. He always enjoyed the feeling of his cock deep inside someone while they changed positions – it was a sensation he couldn’t describe, but it never failed to send a jolt of electricity through him.

He pulled her up until he was sitting back on his heels, and she was straddling him. She situated herself on top of him quickly, and began to pump her hips against him. He watched her, in all her naked splendor, as she slowly bounced up and down on his dick. He looked down at her breasts as they moved with each thrust. She saw him looking and smirked; pressing her chest against his and pulling him into a deep kiss. He ran his hands up her back, gently clawing at her firm skin, one hand snaking up into her hair. She moaned into his mouth, then ripped her lips from his and arched her back.

He held onto her, but she leaned back farther than he had expected. Instead of falling flat on her back though, he felt her thighs clamp around him, her feet linking behind his ass. She arched her back against the mattress, stretching her arms out as far as she could. She pushed herself up on her elbows, eyeing him naughtily, and used the muscles in her thighs and the angle of her hips to move against him.

He ran his hands up her stomach, over her breasts, then down her sides as she moaned and cooed in response. Her hips rocked violently against him, and he pressed a thumb against her clit, circling the sensitive mound and extracting even more moans and gasps from her. She came quickly; her muscles tightening around him, her back arching and her head pressing back against the mattress. When she had ridden out the waves of her orgasm, she lifted herself back up quickly. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rode him wildly until he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He gripped her tightly to him, leaning his head back in a loud growl, and as he spilled his seed up into her, she nipped at his jaw with her teeth.

Tom’s grip on his cock tightened, the warm water adding even more lubrication as he pumped his hand faster. His eyes clenched tightly as he played that vision over and over in his head; remembering the sound of her gasps as she came, the way she had taken control and gotten what she’d wanted from him. His eyes sprang open and he let out a low grunt of pleasure as he spurted against the shower wall. His entire body quaked as his orgasm pulsed through him. As it finally subsided, he slowly pushed himself off of the tile and stepped back.

He washed himself and rinsed his hair, his body still pleasantly relaxed and tingly from his orgasm. As he stepped out of the shower and started to dry off, an unpleasant tinge of guilt began to creep up on him. Why does it feel wrong, he asked himself, glancing in the foggy mirror, to remember the good times like that? He ran a hand across the glass and could finally see his face clearly. Did it make him a bad friend, to think of those moments, and find pleasure in them, while Mal was still recovering?

He wrapped his towel around his hips and opened the bathroom door, stepping out into the warm hallway and walking towards his bedroom. He heard Mal’s footsteps in the living room; she sounded like she was pacing. She’s still anxious about her appointment, he thought, and suddenly he felt even guiltier for what he had just done in the shower.

He quickly disappeared into his room before Mal had a chance to see him, and dressed in silence; all the while contemplating whether or not his masturbation-session made him a bad friend. When he couldn’t find a reason to remain in his room any longer, he took a deep breath and walked back out into the hall. In the living room, Mal was packing her duffel bag. She had packed up most of the stuff she had brought to his house, but she seemed to keep finding more and more as his departure date to Toronto grew nearer and nearer.

He watched her for a moment as she buzzed around the room, packing her books and some of her clothes. He couldn’t hide his smirk when he thought about how much progress she had made in the last few weeks. Since the incident on Christmas Eve, she had begun to make a steady improvement, not only in her daily mood, but she was slowly returning to her old self again. He could see it in her mannerisms, in the tiny gestures she made, and in the way she spoke. She joked again; she smiled easier; her sarcastic humor was coming back to her. There were still moments when her anxiety would take a hold of her and she couldn’t hide it from him, but those moments were starting to become few and farther between.

“Ready?” he asked. His voice cracked and she turned to him with a sly grin. He smirked and shrugged, trying his best to put the inner argument he’d been debating over out of his mind.

She stuffed a pair of sneakers into the duffel bag and started to zip it up, “almost.” She sounded annoyed, the bag was overstuffed and the zipper was fighting with her.

“Can I help with anything?”

She straightened her back, put her hands on her hips, and looked around the room. Her eyes fell on her laptop case and another suitcase she had already packed, both of which sat on the floor by the sofa. “You can take those out to the car for me.”

Tom picked them up, then looked back at her, “you’re not gonna need your laptop for the next couple of weeks?”

Mal smirked as she continued to struggle with the zipper. Without looking back at him, “I can use yours if I desperately need to check my email, but I’ve got my phone too.” They had made the decision that she would remain with him until he had to leave for Toronto, and then she would return to her flat in Staffordshire, where Susan would visit her regularly.

Mal had started to get back to work; she had made plans with her business partners to participate in several movies, all of which were going to start preproduction in the near future. She was working with her management company to organize her schedule, but she was trying to take it slow. It was hard though, because she was enthusiastic since she was feeling better, and Tom was worried she might bite off more than she could chew. Dr. Myers had expressed a similar concern in the most recent session which Tom had been a part of, but Mal had been adamant that she wasn’t going to take on more than she could handle.

He came back in from loading the car, and looked at his watch, “we should get going Mal,” he called from the front hallway. Her appointment was in half an hour, and then they had the drive to Staffordshire to drop off her bags, and he didn’t want to be late to the Donmar later. After a moment, she came walking towards the door with the duffel bag slung over her shoulder. “Let me take that,” he motioned to take the hefty bag from her, but she stepped back from him and waved him off.

“I’ve got it,” she smiled.

Their drive to the hospital worried him. It would be the first time she would be back there since the night of her attack, and he wasn’t sure how it would affect her – or if she knew how it would affect her. She had wanted to visit her own personal doctor, but the physician who had attended her at the hospital insisted that her checkup and follow up tests should to be done there.

“You okay?” he asked as they got out of the car and started towards the entrance. Mal’s smile had disappeared, but she nodded and attempted to flash him a quick grin. She wrapped her arms around herself and tugged her sweatshirt up around her neck as they walked to the front desk and she checked in. They sat together for a while in the hectic waiting room, and Tom handed her a fitness magazine that was on the table near him. She flipped through it, pausing on a page here and there to scan an article, but he could tell she was only partly paying attention to it.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” he asked. It felt strange to him, as he said it – it sounded like something a parent would say to their teenager who was just starting to become more independent.

She looked sideways at him, then shrugged noncommittally. She opened her mouth to say something – perhaps to utter the ever-irritating “it doesn’t matter,” when a nurse came into the room and called her name. Slightly stunned, she glanced back at him, but gestured for him to remain in his seat. He watched her follow the nurse, and let out a feeble sigh. He picked up another magazine, but couldn’t concentrate on it. He tossed it back on the table and took out his phone, texting a few people and waiting to see who would respond first.

After almost an hour, his ass was starting to go numb, and he had almost completely exhausted the battery of his phone. He stared blankly at the television at the front of the waiting room; but he could hardly discern what program was on. People buzzed around him, and he did his best not to think about how hectic and disturbing this place had been on the night he had met Sue after the phone call from Ben.

“Mr. Hiddleston?” an unfamiliar voice surprised him out of his daze. He looked around, and saw the same nurse who had come to get Mal, now standing in the doorway looking at him. He slowly stood up, not sure what she wanted of him. He walked over to her and she lowered her voice, “your girlfriend is asking for you.”

“Oh, she’s n–” he started to correct the woman, but she had turned and was starting to lead him down the hallway Mal had disappeared into. After a beat, he hurried to catch up with her, and followed her past several numbered doors, until she stopped and motioned for him to go inside the nearest one. Holding his breath, Tom gripped the knob and opened the door. The room smelled like any other doctor’s office; of antiseptic and that unnerving medicinal tang. The door closed behind him, and he saw Mal sitting on the patient bed. Her legs were crossed underneath her, her elbows on her knees, and her face in her hands.

“Mal?” he asked, and she started to cry without even looking up at him. Dumbfounded, Tom went to her and sat next to her, placing his arm across her back and pulling her against him. She allowed him to pull her into a sideways hug, but her tears became more and more violent as she tried to catch her breath. “Darling what is it?” he asked as he ran his hand over her back. He knew she wouldn’t be able to answer him right away, but he continued to try and console her as best he could. Had one of the STD tests come back positive? So many questions raced through his mind; had that bastard given her something? Did he have HIV? He felt his heart pound uncomfortably and he gripped her tighter, praying she would be able to gather herself long enough to give him some sort of answer.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and a young man poked his head in. He was friendly looking, and he smiled curtly at Tom when their eyes met. He stepped forward and extended a hand towards Tom, “hello, I’m Dr. Baldwin, I was the attending physician the night Miss McLintock was admitted.”

Tom nodded, “Tom,” he introduced himself, his voice raspy and stressed.

“You’re the boyfriend?” the doctor asked.

“Well,” he glanced down at Mal, who had only just started to catch her breath as she burrowed her face into his shoulder. He looked back up at the doctor and nodded ardently, “is there a problem?”

The doctor’s tentative smile faded, and he pulled a file folder out from under his arm. He flipped it open, and started looking through the paperwork, “I’ve just given Miss McLintock some…upsetting news.”

Mal groaned quietly against the crook of Tom’s neck, and he hugged her tighter with one arm, rubbing her other arm as she held onto him. He forced himself to remain firm as he listened to the doctor; he had to be the strong one, for Mal, no matter the news was. “What is it?”

Dr. Baldwin glanced at Tom, then back down at his file, “well, the good news is that she is STD free. The HIV and AIDS tests were also negative, so she’s in the clear for those communicable diseases.”

“S-so,” Tom looked down at Mal, holding her firmly as she vibrated silently against him, “what’s the problem?”

“Well,” the doctor sighed heavily, “Miss McLintock is with child.”

Tom couldn’t keep his eyes from bulging, he felt an uncontrollable convulsion in his gullet and he withdrew his hand from Mal’s arm to bring it to his mouth. Mal began to cry again and pulled at him, he enveloped her in his arms and leaned his cheek against the top of her head as the news washed over him.

“I know it is upsetting news,” the doctor continued, his eyes darting between the two of them and the floor. He waited a moment before continuing, “but as I was explaining to Miss McLintock before she requested you join her; there are options.”

Mal suddenly pushed herself off of Tom and sprung from the bed. She bounded to the other side of the room, her head bent forward as her sobs continued. With her back to them, she wiped at her eyes and took several deep breaths, before slowly turning around to glare at the doctor. “I want it out of me,” she said in a low, unfamiliar voice.

The doctor nodded, “there are special services for women in your situation. We can set up an appointment.”

She had left the hospital in such a fit that Tom couldn’t even get her to eat dinner with him before he left for the theater. He asked her if she wanted him to cancel but she practically ordered him to go. The next two weeks were almost as silent as the first month of her stay. The house returned to its quiet, dreary self, and Mal started sitting in her chair again, gazing out the window. Tom couldn’t do much for her; not with his busy schedule, and packing to get ready to leave the country – his time was spread too thin.

She presented him with a card on his birthday, but the smile she wore as he blew out the candle on his cupcake, was a plastic, unconvincing one. She cried that she had forgotten to buy him a gift, and felt horrible for it. He tried to tell her she didn’t need to buy him anything, but she complained with a teary grimace that she was a terrible friend, and with a frustrated groan, she had disappeared into her room. Her appointment at the clinic came and went without incident, but it was as if she had been violated all over again. He could see it in her face, even if she didn’t want to talk about it.

He would come home to find her asleep, or at least pretending to be, and he wasn’t sure if she was avoiding him, or if she just didn’t want to talk at all. The next few days flew by because of his schedule; Mal had stopped going to the theater with him, and expressed no interest in joining him for the upcoming wrap party. He tried to convince her that she would enjoy the time with his fellow actors and the crew of Coriolanus, because she had gotten to know them very well in the past few months – but she wouldn’t be swayed.

As the day of his trip to Canada neared, Mal’s mood began to change again. She was still quiet, but it was a determined type of silence that engulfed her. She remained vigilant that she would be returning to work soon after Tom left, and she continued to make plans with her manager for the new film she would be working on. It was a far cry from the Mal he had seen blossom after Christmas – the one who almost seemed like her old self again – but there was nothing he could do.

Tom couldn’t help but feel terrible for leaving. A few days after her abortion, he had started talking about her coming with him to Toronto, but she wouldn’t listen. He tried to convince her that there was plenty she could do in that bustling city, and she could use the time to prepare for her next film project, but she became her old stubborn self and wouldn’t hear any of it.

The night of the wrap party for Coriolanus, Tom came home late. He had drank too much and felt horrible. He had banged his head on a stage door and the theater medic had to bandage him up. Mal was in her room when he stumbled into the house, and he flopped onto his bed and ended up passing out in his stage clothes.

When he opened his eyes to the shrill ringing of the alarm clock, his head was about to split open and his brains were going to spill out. He turned the alarm off and gently rolled onto his side. Somehow, his boots had been removed, his chest plate had been taken off, and his wristlets had been unlaced and they were all sitting at the end of the bed. He started to sit up, but his brain throbbed against his skull and he immediately lay back down. He turned slightly to glance at the clock, and realized he had plenty of time before his plane left. He slowly turned the other way, and saw the piece of paper sitting upon the other pillow. He grabbed it and opened it quickly, eyes fuzzy, but he blinked a few times and read:

Tom, I tried to get you changed for bed but you weren’t having any of it. I hope you had a good time at the party, and I hope you’re not too hung over in the morning. I set your alarm so you would have enough time to get some coffee before your car arrived to take you to the airport. Your bag is all packed, I made sure your pajamas and laptop were in there (since you weren’t using them last night), and all you need to remember is your toothbrush once you’re done with it.

I’m sorry to run off like this, but you know I can’t do the whole teary-goodbye thing. I don’t think there are words for what you’ve done for me these last few months. If there are words, I don’t know them – you’re the one with the superstar vocabulary, not me. I can only thank you for everything you’ve done, and hope that you won’t hold it against me for leaving while you were passed out.

You’ve got my number, and I’ve got yours. I’m sure we can meet up for lunch (or whatever) the next time we’re both in the city. Please – PLEASE take care of yourself in Canada. And if you do decide to do that weird movie in Ireland afterwards, please make sure to get some rest. You work too hard.

You’re the best man that I’ve ever known.

Mal

He sat up, and the room spun, but he ignored it by staring down at her letter. He looked around the room, but he hadn’t expected to find her in it. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, clutching his skull with every step, then stumbled listlessly to the living room. All her bags were gone and the house was eerily silent – even more silent than usual. He peered warily into the guest room, and saw that she had made up the bed and cleaned of all the dresser and table-tops. All her things were gone from the bathroom, and her shoes weren’t by the front door. She really had left.

Tom sat in the back of the car two hours later as the driver took him to the airport. His luggage was in the trunk, his phone was charged and in his coat pocket, and Mal’s letter was clutched in his hand. He hadn’t been able to reread it since he’d left the house, but her words kept repeating over and over in his mind. I don’t think there are words for what you’ve done for me these last few months, and please make sure to get some rest. You work too hard. Her concern for him made him want to smile, but as he pulled his luggage through the airport, smiling was the last thing he felt like doing. You’re the best man that I’ve ever known; her words haunted him all the way to Canada.

Joining a film set when the movie has already been in production for two weeks, and you’re two weeks behind everyone else, and you have to meet all the new faces and co-workers – is enough to distract anyone. Tom was no different. Despite his disappointment in not being able to say goodbye to Mal, immersing himself in Del Toro’s world was the perfect thing to help him take his mind off of it.

The crew was fantastic, and his fellow cast mates were a joy to work with. By his second week of filming, he felt on top of the world again – the hectic, overpowering strain of Coriolanus was behind him, and being back on a film set put him at ease. He enjoyed Toronto, and made a point of going out with Mia and Jessica when they all had time off to see the sites that the city offered.

The weather in February wasn’t the best, especially not in one of the coldest countries of North America. The snow finally started to melt away near the end of the month, and as the winter sun began to wane, Tom felt his mood start to brighten more and more. He stood out on the balcony of his hotel room, watching the sun rise over the slumbering city, and was struck by a sudden random memory of Mal laughing. It had been on the set of Avengers, when he had been strung up on wires and was about to fall thirty feet and land on an alien spaceship. It was when he had looked into the camera and given the international sign for ‘rock on,’ by extending his index and pinky fingers, with a saucy smirk on his face. Mal had been beside the camera and had immediately started giggling, which had made him start to giggle, and they had to delay the scene so everyone could gather themselves.

He spent the rest of that day with her infiltrating his thoughts. While he stood with Jessica in between takes; dressed in full Victorian garb and goofing around like ten year olds, he would catch himself randomly thinking of her – where she might be at that moment, what she was doing, how she was doing. The others had to have noticed his change in moods, but nobody said anything to him.

That night, there was a party for Jessica’s birthday at a local karaoke bar, which successfully took his mind off of the woman he loved a thousand miles away. None of them were allowed to drink, on Guillermo’s orders, since later on they would be filming a night scene at around two in the morning. They had their fun, singing songs and dancing. Tom and Jessica sang an energetic rendition of “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” which garnered rabid applause. While Mia sang a heartfelt version of “Nothing Compares to You,” even though she knew she didn’t have the voice for it.

They returned to location, and Tom retreated to his trailer, waiting to be called to makeup. He climbed into his costume; with its detail work so exquisite and intricate that he always made sure to move carefully so as not to damage the costume department’s hard work. After half an hour or so, the pitter of rain echoed above his trailer and he got a call from Del Toro saying that they would try to wait the rain out. So Tom settled in on his laptop answering emails and surfing the web.

He glanced down at the clock on his computer screen and saw that it was almost three, with still no definitive word on whether the scene would be happening or not. He considered calling Guillermo, but he knew the director was unbelievably busy, and trusted that he would alert him the minute he needed him for the scene.

There was a violent knock on the flimsy door of his trailer and Tom jumped in his seat. He lumbered over, aggravated by being startled, and wrenched the door open so quickly he hadn’t seen who was standing in front of him until he had already started to shout.

“What the fu-“ he started, but his curse died in his throat.

Mal stood before him, soaked in the rain. Her hair was plastered to her head, her clothes clung to her, but she smiled sheepishly up at him. Tom’s brain stuttered for a moment as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. It wasn’t until she peeled a few strands of her drenched locks from her face, that he realized she needed to get inside.

“Mal,” he pushed the outer screen door open, beckoning her towards him, “come in out of the rain.”

She looked like she was about to refuse, her hesitation prominent on her anxious brow. She glanced over her shoulder at the other trailers; where other actors and crew members were sheltering from the winter rain, then she looked back up at Tom, and stepped up into his trailer.

He fussed for a minute, trying to find where the towels had been stored, and when he came back to her with a handful of them, she smiled nervously. She took a dishtowel from him and threw it over her head, as he flung a body towel around her shoulders and wrapped her tightly in it. He felt her trembling, and he started to rub her arms as she watched him – he couldn’t quite read the expression on her face. She looked scared, or maybe just nervous, but she couldn’t stop smiling, and her eyes were bright and beaming through the darkness.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as she sat on the other side of the table from where he had been sitting a moment ago. “How did you get here?” he added when he sat down.

She chuckled, a shiver causing her jaw to vibrate. She shrugged, “I had to see you.”

He smiled; he realized his smile had been plastered across his face since he’d opened the door, “you need to get into some dry clothes. I can call costume–”

“Tom,” she cut him off. He looked at her with wide, concerned eyes, and she smiled sweetly, “let me say what I need to say, okay?”

He furrowed his brow, “you didn’t have to come all the way to Canada, Mal. A phone call would have sufficed,” he smirked.

She slowly shook her head, “I needed to say this in person, especially after how I left you in London.” He sat back in his seat and nodded quietly. She took a shaking breath, clutching at the towel around her, then looked at him, her eyes set. “I was wrong before,” she started, “all those years ago when we were fooling around. I need you in my life, Tom. You were more than just a silly fling. You’re the only one who makes me feel safe; who calms me when I can’t catch my breath, and makes me feel strong, even when I’m about to crumble.” She looked on the verge of tears, but she battled on, determined, “you’re the only one who has been there for me no matter what, and you’ve never asked anything of me, except for me to be myself.” He wasn’t sure if she was finished, so he just continued to watch her. She glanced down at the table, sighed shakily, then looked back up at him, “it took me way too long to realize something that you knew ages ago.”

“What’s that?” his voice was small, timid.

She smirked, reaching one of her cold hands across the table. He reached for it and took her fingers in his, gripping them firmly, and her smirk widened into that bright beaming smile he loved so much. “That I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. And you’re the only one I could ever want to be with.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RATING: M  
> AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: more angst and ‘drama,’ in this chapter. But there might be a light at the end of the tunnel! Warning: mention of rape, complications from it, etc, read at your own risk.
> 
> *This chapter is heavy on the lovey-dovey, if you get my drift ;)

Mal stayed with Tom throughout the rest of the  _Crimson Peak_  shoot, and when filming finally wrapped near the end of May, the two flew back to London. They were both bewildered to discover that they had over a month free, with nothing to do. Mal declared that Tom was on a mandatory holiday; that he had practically worked himself to death during  _Coriolanus_ , and that jumping right into _Crimson Peak_  hadn’t been healthy for him. He didn’t complain – he marveled at how she fussed over him. Once they arrived back at his house, she would wake him with breakfast in bed, she would give him shoulder massages when he wasn’t expecting it, and they would go for runs together around the park. It was eerily strange to see her this way, after how he had seen her months ago, but it was encouraging as well.

It took a little over a week before he made the suggestion that she didn’t have to stay in his guest room anymore. Mal looked anxious whenever the topic of sex was even  _hinted_  at, but Tom reassured her multiple times that there was no pressure. “We’re not rushing  _anything_ ,” he told her one afternoon when they had been sitting together on the couch watching a movie.

She had crawled over to him and curled into his arm, and he had pressed his cheek against her head. Neither of them had been paying attention to the film. Her hand, which  _had_  been resting on his knee, had somehow traveled higher up his thigh – sending a pulsating shiver through his body. He had laid his own hand on top of hers, squeezing it gently, and when she had tried to kiss him, he had held her back to look at her.

“Mal _,_ ” he whispered, her face only inches from his, “what are you doing?”

She smiled nervously, “kissing you – what does it  _look_  like?” Her eyes twinkled with the reflection of the television screen.

Tom rubbed her arm, “I thought we were going to take it slow?”

She chuckled uncomfortably, “it’s just a kiss, Tom.” She pushed into him, his hands still on her arms as he tried to hold her back, but she was stronger than him and they both knew it. Their lips connected and her fingers traced lightly over his cheeks; it was blissful to get lost in her kiss, after  _so_  many years. Tom felt himself slide away, he felt every anxiety and fear that had been taking residence in his brain for the past six months, slowly begin to float away from him as her soft lips caressed his own. She flicked her tongue along his top lip; something he had forgotten that she used to always do, and then her hand on his thigh began to move further upwards. When her fingers reached dangerously close to his groin, he gripped her wrist and pulled his lips from hers.

“ _Mal_ ,” he said sternly, holding her hand away from him. She stared, wide eyed, surprised by his sudden scolding. She pulled away, sat back on her heels on the sofa and glared at him for another moment, before getting up and leaving the room.

Later that evening, they discussed where exactly their relationship was going. Mal confessed that she  _wanted_  to be with him, “like we used to,” she said, and he knew exactly what she meant. Tom wanted to wait, and he suspected she did too, despite what she said. After a little coaxing, she confessed that he was right, and that she really did need to slow herself down.

She had spent a few more nights in the guest room, before they started sleeping together. It was peaceful, lying with her in his large bed. She fell asleep quickly, but he knew that was because of the anti-anxiety medication that Dr. Myers had prescribed her. Waking up to her every morning was something he couldn’t stop smiling about, and the two of them fell into an easy routine full of gentle kisses, cheery giggling, and warm hugs. The house was livelier, slowly filling up with an energy that he couldn’t describe – and it was wonderful. The moping, dangerously depressed Mal had all but disappeared – she resurfaced from time to time, but he knew her therapy was huge help in dealing with her troubles.

Over the next couple of weeks, Mal and Joe quickly made up. He apologized adamantly for startling her the way he had, and she apologized over and over for beating him. His wounds were barely noticeable when Tom saw him – which was more often now that Mal made regular trips to the gym to train with both Joe and Russ. The physical exercise was good for her, she always came back with a breathless smile on her face, and she was light on her feet again. He would see her dancing about the house, whether music was playing or not, and he wouldn’t be able to contain his thankful smile.

Despite her demanding that he take the month to recuperate and relax, Tom had lines to learn, and having Mal fluttering through the house was not always a good thing when it came to his preparations. He would shut himself in his study; pacing around the room reciting his lines and swearing at himself when he made the slightest mistake. Finally, Mal realized he needed some help, and offered to be his springboard. She would read with him – she was no actress, but that didn’t matter. They would practice in the living room, and he would recite his lines enthusiastically to her while she watched him from where she sat on the couch; beaming up at him.

“What?” he asked, dropping his arms after he had gotten particularly animated while performing a scene for her late one evening. She shook her head, still grinning at him. He put his hands on his hips and glared at her – a combination of playfulness and strain etched into his handsome face. “Did I fuck something up?”

She chuckled and shook her head again, “no, you were perfect.”

“Then what are you on about?” he asked, sounding much more frustrated and terse than he had meant to.

She cocked an eyebrow, but her grin didn’t fade. “I’m just…” she glanced away from him, searching for the right word, “ _impressed_.”

He felt his shoulders fall, then he slumped onto the couch next to her, heaving a loud sigh and pressing his palms into his eyes, “thank  _God_ ,” he breathed, and Mal chuckled apologetically next to him.

“Why are you so worried about it? You know your lines backwards and forwards, you should be excited!”

He dropped his arms and turned towards her, his head resting on the back of the couch. She slouched down against the cushions so she was eye level with him, watching him. “Do you remember during  _The Avengers_ , when Joss would change a scene on us?” he asked.

After a moment, Mal began to nod slowly, “I remember you freaking out that one day when he came to give you your new lines,” she chuckled. Tom nodded, then closed his eyes and sighed again. Mal scooted closer to him on the couch and laid a hand on his chest. It startled him for a split second, but the pressure of her palm against him was a pleasant sensation. He wondered if she was trying to send him some of her vibes, as he looked up into her eyes. She smiled a tiny grin, “you’re going to be  _wonderful_.”

He smirked disbelievingly, and she surprised him by leaning down and kissing him. He grunted as she caught him off guard, but instead of pushing her off of him, his hands slowly crawled up her sides. Mal twitched at his touch, but he felt her take a breath and she relaxed against him. His arms folded behind her back, and she deepened the kiss by sliding her tongue past his lips. He moaned into her as her fingers dove into his hair, tangling in his curls.

“What,” he tried to ask her in between kisses, “are…we…doing?” She held his face in her hands and pulled back from him, her lips wet with his saliva, his own raw from her eagerness. She had a familiar glint in her eye as she stared back at him. He could feel her heart beating against his ribs; somehow she had climbed into his lap and had straddled him while they had been kissing, but he couldn’t remember her doing it. She lowered her eyes at him, and he felt his mouth run dry, “are you sure?” was all he could think to ask.

It took her less than a second to smile, nod, and kiss him – all at once, and he chuckled against her lips. Mal opened her lips to him as their breathing quickened. Tom felt a rush of tingling excitement bubble up within him as she gently sucked on his tongue. She began to writhe against him; one hand kneading into his pectoral muscle, while her other travelled down his ribs, until she had reached between the two of them and had taken a handful of him through his trousers. Any semblance to the move she had pulled on him all those months ago in his dressing room at the Donmar, was completely forgotten when she began to massage her fingers into him. He grunted loudly against her, and she pulled back to giggle against his neck, leaving light, timid kisses along his jaw line and down to his collar bone. He sucked in air quickly when she lifted her face up to his ear and took his earlobe in her mouth. She sent goose bumps down his spine as she ran the tip of her tongue along the outer edge of his ear. She pulled back to look at him, but before she could lean back down to plant her lips on his again, he smiled up at her, “do you want to go to the bedroom?”

She cocked a playful eyebrow at him, “ _Hiddleston_? Wanting to do it in an old-fashioned bed?” she chuckled.

Tom smirked up at her, then reached up and slid his fingers behind her head, snaking them into her hair. Her face softened and he pulled her into a soft, lingering kiss. He pulled away just far enough so that his lips lightly brushed against hers, like a leaf brushing softly across you as it falls to the earth. “I want to  _enjoy_  you,” he whispered against her mouth before pulling her lips into his.

They made their way to the bedroom clumsily and giggly; pausing along the hallway so that Tom could press Mal’s back against the wall and grind his hips into hers, burying his face in her neck and drawing out long, gasping moans from her as he nipped and sucked at her flesh.

She was quick with her clothing, unafraid to stand in front of him in nothing but her few tattoos and her tanned and toned skin. She stepped closer and helped him pull his t-shirt up and over his head. When he pulled his head out of the fabric and was able to get a good look at her, he caught a glimpse of her nervous, tremulous smile; giddy with excitement but wavering in anxiety. He let his shirt fall to the floor and quickly took her in his arms. She fell into his embrace without a second thought, and he felt her bare breasts against his stomach as she loosely held onto him.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispered softly, holding the back of her head.

There was a hushed moment in which he thought she might agree and begin to get dressed. Instead, Mal pulled out of his arms and leaned back to look up at him; the anxiety gone from her face, “I  _want_  to, Tom.” Her voice was reassuring and firm, but she grinned mischievously, “I want to make love with you.”

Tom swallowed hard, then Mal stepped back from him. He allowed his eyes to travel slowly up and down her body – the body he remembered from so many years ago, but which now seemed strangely new and unfamiliar to him. She laced her fingers into his and pulled him towards the bed, a tiny smile across her lips as she watched him looking her over. She turned and crawled up onto the mattress, turning back to face him as he wriggled out of his pants.

They slid under the covers together, the sheets cool and crisp against their naked flesh. Mal curled into in his arms and he wrapped them around her warm skin. She pressed herself against him and slid one of her legs in between his. His stiffening cock knocked against her thigh; he could feel the warmth from between her legs and it echoed up through his torso. He kissed her eagerly, lost in the excitement as his mouth explored hers. She moaned into him as their bodies moved together; the rhythmic pulse of electricity shuddering through them as they became tangled in the sheets.

Tom lapped at her skin, grinning when he elicited a gasp or moan from Mal’s lips as he traveled down her body. He paused at a breast, at her waist, on the inner skin of her thigh – each resulting in a delicious tune resonating from her as he caressed and kissed. He looked up at her as he hovered above her open legs, his fingers massaging her thigh carefully. She was staring at the ceiling, but she let out a deep sigh and looked down at him. Their eyes connected and he searched her dark pupils for the go-ahead. She waited a moment; watching him, then that familiar smirk crossed her lips and she grinned down at him. He bent forward, taking her in his mouth, and Mal leaned her head back with a loud gasp. Her hips bounced up into him and he held her down gently with his hands. She reached down and gripped his hair roughly, urging him onward as he lapped at her juices. He moaned into her; the vibrations reverberating through her as she writhed beneath him. He flattened his tongue against her entrance, dragging it slowly up to her sensitive clit, watching her pulse and twitch with every breath.

After another moment, Mal moaned his name and he slithered his way back up towards her. Her legs latched around him when he pressed his hips into hers, and she held him there with her powerful thighs. He quickly wiped his mouth; remembering something in the back of his mind from when they had been together in that previous life, and she pulled him down into a kiss. Her arms encircled him, folding around his shoulders, and she held him so close he could feel her pulse as blood coursed through her veins.

“I love you,” she whispered into his lips.

“I love you too,” he said quietly as he kissed her nose.

She smirked up at him, wriggling her hips against his as she held onto him. He smiled back at her, then reached down between them and took his cock in his hand. He wasn’t sure how she would react, he wasn’t even sure if  _she_  knew how she would react, and part of him told himself to be ready for  _anything_. He slowly ran the tip of his dick up her slick opening and she groaned, pushing her head back into the pillow. Tom watched her closely, straining to see her face, to see if she was still alright.

With a deep, gasping breath, Mal brought her face back to his, and nodded. She held onto him with one arm, her other hand trailing down his back until it rested on his waist. “You’re sure?” he asked, the heat from her inner core felt blistering. His cock throbbed in his hand as he ached to push inside her, but he needed her to tell him it was still okay before he did anything.

She nodded quickly, attempting to smile up at him, but it came out more like a nervous giggle. She caught his lips with hers and mumbled in between feverish kisses, “ _do it_.”

Tom took a breath, then pushed forward slowly with his hips. He felt her all-encompassing warmth, the tightness and slick suction as he was swallowed up within her. He couldn’t contain his groan, and Mal tore her lips from his to inhale sharply at the sudden internal intrusion. He didn’t dare move, once buried inside her – instead he hovered above her, trying to control his breathing, waiting for her to say or do something.

She looked up at him, her dark eyes wide and glistening in the light that shone through the window. For a moment, he could see the shadow of that same naughty grin from so many years ago; the one she would flash him before begging, or  _commanding_  him to fuck her. As soon as he thought he had seen it, though, it was gone, and tears were forming in its place. One of her hands quickly covered her quivering lips as she struggled to contain herself, but Tom had already seen it. He pulled out of her so quickly there was a muffled suction noise from beneath the sheets, and he rolled off of her and was lying along her side with his arms around her before she could utter a word.

She let her tears flow, crying loudly into his chest as he held her. She gently knocked a loose fist against his shoulder, but all he could do was quietly shush her and hold her as she sobbed. They lay there for what felt like hours, he squeezed his eyes closed and kissed the top of her head, unsure of what he could say that might help. After a while, her tears faded and she slowly caught her breath. She quieted and was finally still, clutching at him vaguely as they lay there, numb in the darkness.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his whisper cutting through the silence.

He felt Mal nod against him, then she started to move, and she pulled away from him. She shifted within the warm confines of the cocoon they had created in the bed, and came up to look at him; leaning on one of her elbows and against the pillows so they were eye to eye. Even in the darkness, he could see her raw, puffy eyes as she watched him. She sat like that for a moment, remaining silent, but just watching him. Finally, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “I’m sorry,” she started.

“There’s no need to be,” he automatically cut in.

She eyed him, the tiniest of grins forming at the corner of her mouth. He mentally told himself to shut up, as she took another breath and continued, “it wasn’t because of  _you_ , Tom.” Unsure of if he should say anything or not, he cinched his eyebrows together in a gesture of anxious compassion, and she smirked at him, wiping a stray tear from the side of her face. “It wasn’t because I was scared, or because you were hurting me,” she wiped more tears away. She didn’t look like she was going to cry again, but her eyes continued to water, “because you  _weren’t._ ”

“Are you sure?” he whispered, unable to remain silent any longer.

Mal’s smile was unflinching; still anxious, but stronger than he had seen it in all the time they’d been living together. It was a smile of acceptance, of a new-found strength that she hadn’t been aware of until just now. She was glowing, and the force and potency of her smile was infectious; Tom found himself smiling back at her, unsure as to why. “I was scared, but not because of you,” she said with a low sigh. “I was scared for half a second, because I had _forgotten_  all about it. About  _everything_ , and then it came rushing back to me.” He scooted closer to her on the mattress, she settled against him and glanced around the darkened room. “I was thinking about the old days, when we were messing around,” she said with a grin. “Then I remembered everything we’ve been through in the last few months, and I saw you, trying so hard to be gentle and making sure I was alright….and I just…lost it.”

His arm was around her shoulders and she sunk into his embrace and pressed her cheek against his chest. She threw an arm across his belly, and he felt her finally relax against him with another deep sigh. After another moment, she continued, “I don’t want to stop, Tom. I want to keep going. Those weren’t tears of regret, or agony. Those were tears of happiness, and…acceptance.” She moved her head to look up at him, and he looked down at her. “I  _want_  you,” she whispered as she pulled away from him again. This time, she let the blankets fall away from her as she sat up. She crawled towards him and pressed her lips against his. He felt her throw a leg across him, and suddenly she was straddling his hips and he could feel her wet, white hot heat again. She reached down between them, shifting her weight temporarily, and took him in her hand. He gasped softly as she began to pump him to get him hard again.

After another moment and some brisk hand movements, Tom felt the blood rush to his groin and Mal was positioning herself above of him. There was that sensation of overpowering heat again as she pushed down onto him, she let out a howl of rapture when their hips connected and he was once again buried inside her. She straightened her back, her hands reaching back to rest on his thighs. He was surprised that he had forgotten how beautiful she was, in all her naked glory.

She arched her back and began to bounce slowly. Tom’s hands crept upwards and his fingers dug into her hips as she threw her head back. Her pace quickened, her hips began to buck, and she found his hands and brought them up to her breasts. Her chest heaved; he massaged her breasts with his palms and flicked her nipples with his thumb. Mal drove her fingernails into Tom’s chest as she started to come; he could feel her muscles clenching from within, tightening around his throbbing cock. She called out his name, her voice shrill and punctuated by her orgasm. Her entire body shook, Tom could feel it reverberate through him as she continued to ride him; gasping and sputtering to catch her breath.

Mal slumped forward onto him, slouching over so that her forehead connected with his breast bone and she gently pressed into him. Tom’s own orgasm was just over the brink – his heart was still racing from the wild ride she had been having on top of him. But as she fought to catch her breath, the last thing he was thinking about was getting his rocks off.

“Mal?” he asked in a small, nervous voice.

She didn’t look up right away, but when she finally did, her face was drenched in sweat and she was still panting as her heart rate steadily slowed. Her eyes connected with his, and for a split second there was an animalistic tone to her stare that he didn’t recognize – not even from years ago, when they had been known to have some wild times. She smirked, then blinked away the unfamiliar glare, and took a deep breath as she pushed herself back up into her sitting position. She sighed, running her fingers up and down his chest, “I can’t remember the last time I came  _that_ hard,” she giggled breathlessly.

Tom smiled up at her, his heart still pounding within his chest. Mal took another steadying breath, then rose up on her knees, and he assumed she was about to crawl off of him. He imagined the two of them taking a shower together and then getting ready for bed. But Mal didn’t climb off of him, instead, she brought herself back down, connecting hard with his hips and he grunted in surprise. He looked up at her, seeing her wild, excited grin, and felt his face morph swiftly with hunger for her. Mal’s rhythm accelerated even more, and Tom gripped her hips tightly as he felt her tighten her muscles around him with each pump. He growled low as she dug her nails into his flesh and her thighs clenched around him. She watched him as she bounced, her eyes locked on his as he fought to breathe. His hips bucked upwards as his orgasm neared, he practically vaulted her off of the bed with his enthusiasm. With a rush of pleasure ringing through him; his muscles tensed, his breath caught in his throat, and a burst of light exploded behind his eyes as he came. Mal clung to him as he spilled his seed deep within her, grunting and gripping her tightly as he emptied himself.

Fighting to catch his breath, he hung onto her as she dropped to her side and onto the bed. With her thighs still clamped around him, she pulled him over with her, and an outburst of giggles erupted as the two of them became tangled in arms, legs, and the warm, gooey product of their work out. Mal slid an arm under Tom’s neck as he watched her with a breathless smile. She snaked her arm around his shoulders and he crawled closer to her, scooting up until he could reach her lips with his own. Her kiss was feathery and light, and as he sunk into her she smiled down at him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly against her, his cheek pressed into the muscle of her chest. They slept like that until the early morning hours, when Tom turned over in a dream, and she turned with him in her own.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RATING: M  
> AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: more angst and ‘drama,’ in this chapter. But there might be a light at the end of the tunnel! Warning: mention of rape, complications from it, etc, read at your own risk.
> 
> *This chapter is heavy on the lovey-dovey, if you get my drift ;) - also heavy on the FEELS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: as usual, mention of sexual assault/rape

“Mal, I have to go,” Tom hissed as she tugged at his belt. He turned towards the door; his suit jacket tangled in her fingers as she clung to him, “I’m going to be late,” he chuckled.

“You don’t need an  _hour_  to get across town,” she giggled, tugging him backwards and pushing him against the wall of the corridor. Her lips were on his, her kisses rough as she fought her way into his mouth. He couldn’t help but moan as she explored his mouth with her tongue; flicking the tip up behind his teeth, tickling the roof of his mouth. He ran his fingers up the back of her neck, feeling the goose bumps erupt along her skin. She drew back from him, breathing heavily, “you still have plenty of time to  _fuck me_.”

He found her eyes; she was glaring at him with that old familiar gaze, that look of hunger and playfulness. Tom knew she was right, there was more than enough time for a little fun before he had to leave for his meeting. He surrendered any thought of walking out the door as he ran his hands down her back. He took a handful of her ass, gripping it tightly in his long fingers. She lifted her leg and curled it around his hip, and his hand followed the taut line of muscle in her thigh. She was still wearing his dress shirt from the previous night; she had it buttoned half way, so that the tantalizing skin between her breasts peaked out and teased him. The shirt tails barely covered her ass, and the idea that she was walking around with nothing on underneath made his cock throb inside his trousers.

In one swift movement, Mal hopped up off the floor and he took her in his arms. She curled her legs around his hips as he supported her with his hands, and he turned them around and pressed her back against the wall. He melted into her, his lips forming into hers as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He could feel her eagerness through the fabric of his pants, and as he kissed her, his dick twitched painfully within its confines. “I mean,” she breathed heavily into his mouth, her lips swollen and wet, “if you  _want_  to,” she cocked a mischievous eyebrow up at him.

She reached one hand down between where their bodies connected, and started pulling at his belt buckle. One of Tom’s hands joined hers, and together they undid his button and zipper and she pulled him out of his briefs and started working him with her fingers. He pressed his forehead against hers and his jaw jutted forward in a heaving breath as he watched her hand move. “ _Fucking hell_ , Mal,” he grunted.

With one arm still supporting her from beneath, his other hand wandered up to the buttons of his shirt she was wearing. He took a handful of the fabric and pulled, the buttons popped off and sprinkled the floor. Mal watched him with a surprised smile as he threw the shirt open and stooped low to lap at her breast with his tongue. She threw her head back against the wall and moaned as he took her nipple in his mouth, her hand still working at his rock hard cock.

“Don’t make me beg,” she groaned. Tom teased her nipple with his teeth and she inhaled sharply, but the excitement was still lit in her eyes when he looked up. He gripped his cock in his hand and found her sopping wet clit easily, rubbing the head of his dick up and down her outer lips. She moaned deeply as he coated himself in her juices, then he plunged in and she cried out in a surprised growl, “ _holy fuck!_ ”

A naughty smile formed on his thin lips as he burrowed deep within her, feeling her tight muscles stretching around him. “You are fucking  _spectacular_ , Mallory,” he huffed.

She smiled, but the force of his cock tunneling deep within her was overwhelming her – her smile quickly faded and her face pleaded with him, “oh _God_  Tom, don’t stop!” Her fingers crawled inside his suit jacket, raking at his shoulders through the fabric of his shirt. Her feet were locked behind his ass. He slowly pulled out of her, inch by inch, watching her face. Her eyes connected with his and she held his gaze until only the head of his dick was still encased in her warmth. For the length of a heartbeat he waited; his own heart thumping wildly in his chest. His shoes squeaked loudly on the hardwood floor as he drove back into her, shoving her harder against the wall as she cried out again, begging for more.

He started to thrust, his hips working feverishly against the wall, her thighs shaking as they held onto him tightly. She brought one hand up to his face, holding him by the cheek for a moment as she caught his lips with her own, then she ripped her lips from his and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “You like it like this?” he whispered huskily into her ear as his hips pumped against her. His shoes lost traction on the hardwood, but he didn’t skip a beat with his thrusts.

Mal let out a low growl, running her fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck, “I fucking  _love_  it,” she cooed, her voice strained. He groaned against the hollow of her throat and felt her inner muscles start to throb and tighten around him as he pumped. He drove into her faster, the sound of his hips smacking against her own slightly muffled by the fabric of his pants.

She let out a stifled scream as she clenched tightly around his cock, she arched her back against the wall and her legs stiffened around his hips. He continued to thrust fervently as she came; the back of her head thudded softly against the wall as she fluttered back down to earth and started to catch her breath. The vibration of her orgasm pulsed through him, and with one final thrust, Tom grunted a guttural moan into her shoulder; biting at her muscle as he erupted inside her walls. He slowed, his hips continuing to buck gently as he emptied himself inside her.

His body weight held her up; his arms fell loosely at his sides, her own arms still draped across his shoulders. Her legs held him where he was; his hard on fading while he was still buried to the hilt within her. He used the wall to push himself back a bit to see her. She smiled breathlessly at him, then unlatched her legs from around him and brought her feet down to the floor. She shrugged his dress shirt off her shoulders and used the back of the fabric as a towel to stuff between her legs.

He chuckled, “you know that’s hard to wash out,” he smirked.

She scoffed at him, “fuck it, I’m going to the dry cleaners tomorrow.”

They both giggled as Tom shoved himself back into his pants and zipped himself up. He leaned over and kissed the side of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of vanilla and fruit, once again mixed with perspiration. It shot through him like a bullet; the memories of her doing Baguazhangin the gym, the moments they had shared in various hotel rooms, and the chilling scene of her lying alone and broken in that hospital room in the middle of the night.

Tom’s content smile fell from his face as Mal looked over at him. She was still glowing; pleased that she had gotten her way before he had to leave, until she saw his face, “what’s wrong?”

He looked up and caught her eye, then shook his head – trying to  _shake_  that last image from his mind. “Nothing,” he fiddled with his shirt, making sure it was tucked in, “just thought of something…about the movie.”

She sighed, “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous. It’s going to be fine.”

She hugged him, her naked body clung tightly to his suit jacket for a moment, then she kissed him quickly and sent him on his way. Tom drove across the city to the studio where he was to meet Ben and the others for the  _High Rise_ meeting; thinking the entire time about how he had first seen Mal that night, after the attack. The memory of her bruised and broken face; her swollen eye and split lip – his empty stomach suddenly swirled in an uncomfortable gurgle.

He came home to an empty house – Mal would be at the gym with Joe and Russ until later that evening, preparing for the movie she would be starting around the same time he had to leave for Ireland to shoot  _High Rise._  He dropped his briefcase on the floor in front of the sofa and plopped down onto the soft cushions. The room was eerily dark except for the light of Mal’s laptop on the coffee table.

The screensaver had turned on in the hours since she had left the house, and photos from her computer flipped randomly across the screen. He sat there in the silence for a few minutes, staring blankly at pictures from years ago; a smiling Mal and Susan who had the be at least fifteen years younger, a laughing Mal with her two young nephews, Mal and Russ in a gym somewhere performing a stunt together; Mal in mid-kick as she practiced in a different gym, and then a photo of her and Tom scrolled across the screen that sent a jolt into the center of his chest. It had been taken during the  _Avengers_  shoot – it had been at a bar somewhere in the city, where someone had been having a birthday party. In the photo, both Tom and Mal wore paper hats with sparkling tinsel hanging from them, and she was holding a colorful noisemaker in one hand as she smiled for the photo. Tom could remember that evening perfectly; the drinking, the dancing, all the fun everyone had had, and then how he and Mal had fallen into each other’s arms during a slow song, and he had kissed her for that first time.

He sat there, staring at that photo, remembering that wonderfully fun party, even as the next picture on the screensaver replaced it. He stared blankly, not seeing the laptop in front of him anymore, but remembering. Flashes of the party fluttered through his brain, intermingled with horrifying images of Mal in her hospital bed, of her being forced into the back seat of her car, of her crying as she was brutalized by some faceless beast hovering above her.

Tom leaned forward and pressed his face into his palms. His sobs were muffled only by his own gasps as he felt every bottled emotion come bubbling up from below. Everything he had forced himself not to feel so that he could help her recuperate, suddenly overpowered him and beat him down. His chest heaved painfully as he tried to catch his breath, but his mind wouldn’t let him relax long enough to get air. He wheezed; sputtering sobs tumbled from him as he fought to inhale. Suddenly, two cool hands were on his cheeks, two toned arms snaked their way in between his own, and Mal was pulling at him. She pulled him up from the deep darkness he had toppled into, he opened his eyes and the dim room spun behind her as he gaped at her. Her face was set, her lips thin as she pulled him to his feet.

“Take a breath Tom,” her voice sounded muffled, as if it was coming from another room. She yanked him to his feet and held him against her. She curled one arm around his waist, then used her other hand to lift his chin, “just take a breath sweetheart.”

He watched her through his tears; her calm, collected face. The only emotion he could read upon her features was worry; there was no pain or fear, no agony or despair. He felt a surge of bile rise in his throat and his tears seemed to come to an end almost immediately. “I’m gonna be sick,” he coughed in a hoarse, ruff voice.

Mal stepped to the side, letting him move past her and toward the bathroom. She followed closely behind him as he made his way to the toilet with a hand covering his mouth. He fell to his knees in front of the bowl, slammed the seat up and retched. His eyes watered as he gasped for air – and was finally able to catch a breath. Mal came up behind him and ran her hand up and down his back. He leaned on the edge of the toilet and pulled the handle, wiped his mouth, then turned back to look at her. She squatted down and smiled softly at him. Without a word she opened a wet washcloth she had in her hand and draped it over his face. He sat back, leaning against the edge of the bathtub, and felt her gently hold the cool wet cloth to his skin. After a moment he was able to slow his breathing and calm himself. He relaxed on the floor and felt Mal shift next to him. He reached up and brought the cooling towel down from his face so he could see her.

After a moment, she reached out and ran her hand up and down his arm, “feel any better?”

The tears still felt dangerously close to the surface, stirring just behind his eyes, where they stung and teased him. Tom shook his head slowly, then ran a hand roughly over his face, “I don’t know what the  _fuck_  that was.”

Mal sighed, her fingers lacing in between his own, “it looked like a panic attack.”

He pressed his other palm to his forehead, stars igniting at the corners of his vision, “I don’t think I’ve ever  _had_  a panic attack before.”

She smirked, he could see it out of the corner of his eye. “You looked a little… _off_ , when you left this morning.”

Tom looked up at her, nodding, “I  _felt_  off.”

“Can I ask what it was?”

He shook his head and tried to shrug, his shoulders ached, “I’m not…not sure.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Tom, don’t bullshit me.”

He brought his knees up; they were sore too – his whole body felt raw and tender. He leaned one elbow on his knee, then gripped her hand tightly in his, trying his best to control the tears that were still gurgling within him. “Something reminded me…of…” his chin trembled and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Of what?” she asked calmly, watching him. He shook his head again, covering his mouth with his palm. She scooted closer to him on the floor and took his face in her hands, despite him trying to stave her off. “ _Tom_. Tom! Listen to me –” He opened his eyes wide, she was so close, her nose was almost touching his as she searched his face, “you can’t fight this,” she said quietly. He watched her closely, he could feel his chin quivering again as she continued, “you can’t just ignore it, or shut it away somewhere. It’s not healthy.”

Tears began to track slowly down his cheeks, Mal looked like she was about to start crying herself as she watched him. He inhaled sharply and wet his lips, “how do  _you_  deal with it?” he asked. “There’s so much  _pain_ , how can you handle it?”

She smirked again, her brow furrowed with grief, “one day at a time sweetheart.” He scoffed at her, but she chuckled wryly and shook her head, “I’m serious. You have to take it one day at a time.” She sat back on her heels and watched him as he wiped away his tears, “you’ve been  _so_  strong for me, Tom.” He looked up at her as she went on, “you’ve been nothing but understanding…accepting…you’ve been so supportive of me for the last few months. But you can’t bottle all that up, it’ll eat away at you. The trauma that a caregiver of a rape survivor deals with can be just as traumatizing as anything the survivor might deal with themselves.”

He felt himself smirk numbly, “is that what I am? A  _caregiver?_ ”

She smiled and softly bopped his shoulder, “you know what I mean.”

He nodded, reaching up and taking her hand in his own again. Her skin was warm and comforting against his, “I was worried you might never…” he exhaled slowly, “be  _you_  again…does that make sense?”

She nodded, “of course it does.”

He copied her nod, a small smile erupting upon his lips, “but look at you.” He brought her hand up to his face, opening her palm and pressing it against his cheek, “you’re the same strong, independent, powerfully determined woman I knew all those years ago.” She watched him for another moment, then leaned forward and kissed him. He made to pull back, “Mal, I need to brush,” he muttered, but she just smirked.

“I don’t care,” she said quickly, then pulled his lips against hers again. She kissed him hard, holding his face to hers. She pulled back, got to her feet, then took his hand and pulled him up from the floor.

An hour later, they sat in a calm silence at the kitchen table; Tom with a cold beer clutched in his hands, Mal holding an emptied martini glass as she stared off into the distance. He slouched in his chair, staring down at the half-empty bottle in front of him, trying his hardest not to think about anything at all.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Mal blurted out quietly.

The soft hum of the kitchen had almost lulled him into a calmed stupor as he sat there, but her words snapped him back into reality. “What’s that?” he asked, worry lines forming upon his forehead. He felt his heart start to race as he watched her, wondering what she could possibly want to tell him.

Mal stared down at her drink, she fiddled with the stem of the glass for a minute, then reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. She flicked on the touch screen and pulled something up before sliding the phone across the table, where it stopped just in front of Tom’s beer bottle. He looked at it for a moment, saw that she had pulled up her ‘missed calls’ register, and an unfamiliar number was listed three times at the top of the list.

“That number has been calling me once a day for the past three days,” she said flatly. She took a deep breath, “I’ve never seen it before, and I don’t give my number out.”

“Who is it?” he asked, picking up the phone and looking more closely at the digits of the number in question.

Mal shook her head, “I don’t know. I haven’t called them back, yet.”

Tom cocked an eyebrow, “ _yet?_  Are you  _going_  to?”

She looked strained, as if debating some horrible decision internally. She bit her lip anxiously and shrugged, “I want to know who is calling me. It  _could_  be someone I know…but I’m…nervous.” She paused for a moment, then amended her last statement, “I’m  _scared_.”

His eyes darted back to the phone, then back at Mal, “do you really think it’s someone you know?” After a moment, she shook her head. Tom gripped the phone tightly in his hand, “Mal,” he started, “you don’t think…” he watched her as he spoke, “you don’t think it’s  _him_ , do you?”

Mal’s eyes welled up, but she blinked away at her tears and sniffed. She spun the empty martini glass with her fingers, watching it as she took a deep breath, “I don’t know  _what_  I think, but I know that it’s something I will eventually have to deal with.”

Tom reached across the table towards her with his free hand, “what does that mean? We will deal with it  _together_.”

She looked down at his hand and smiled up at him, the tears glistening in her eyes, “T-Tom,” she stuttered. Her bottom lip shook violently and she covered her mouth with one hand, then took his outstretched fingers with her other. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes screwed up with the force of trying to subdue her tears. Then she took a deep breath, and removed her hand from her face, “you’re going to be in Ireland for two months. I’m leaving for Mexico soon….how can we keep this up?”

He stared at her, “ _keep this up?_ ” he repeated dumbly. She watched him as the thought tumbled around in his brain for a moment, finally sinking in. “I thought you wanted to be together – to make this work? I thought you loved me more than anyone? That you only wanted to  _be with me_?”

Mal nodded, the tears finally falling from her eyes, “I  _do_  love you Tom. I  _do_  want to be with you!”

“ _But_? There’s a ‘but’ in there, right? So what is it?  _But_  you don’t think we can make it work long distance?  _But_  you’re worried that being apart for a few months will change how we  _feel_  about each other?”

“ _Tom_  –”

“No, Mal. We’ve talked about this. We decided that it would be tough, but we could do it. Now that you’re ready and willing to go back to work, we said it was a good idea. We both have busy careers that take us all over the place. But we talked about it and we agreed that  _this,_ ” he raised their hands, still entwined together on the table, “was  _worth_  it.”

Mal cried softly in her seat, looking from where their hands were connected, to Tom’s pained face, then down at the table in shame, “I don’t know what to do!” she cried. “I’m scared,” her words muffled by her sobs as she wrenched her hand out of his grip and covered her face.

Tom pushed back from the table and stood up. There was a mixture of anger and helplessness upon his face as he came around the table and squatted down in front of her. He pushed her chair out as she sat there, crying quietly into her palms. He ran his hands up her thighs, feeling her tremble with each raspy breath, until she was finally able to calm down long enough to peer out at him from between her hands.

“ _Mal,_ ” he said softly, looking up at her with his big blue eyes, “just because we’re going to be apart for a few months doesn’t mean we love each other any less. When I come home in September, I’m coming home  _to you_. This doesn’t end just because we won’t be seeing each other every day.”

She nodded apologetically, “I know that,” she said in a tiny voice.

He watched her for a moment, “is this because of the calls?”

Her eyes widened as she looked down at him and let her hands drop into her lap, a wave of comprehension washed across her face. She shrugged, then nodded, “maybe.”

He ran his hands up to her shoulders, gently squeezing her, “we’re going to the police in the morning.”

She started to shake her head, “it could be  _nothing_ , Tom.” She glanced around feebly for a reason, but she was only grasping at straws, “you’ve got meetings, I’ve got training, we don’t have time for my silly paranoia.”

“It’s not silly, or paranoid. If you think it might be him, we’re  _going_  to the police.”


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A close friend (and former lover) of Tom’s and Benedict’s has been brutally attacked and raped, and Tom takes it upon himself to try and help her heal and recuperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATING: M  
> AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Warning! This chapter might be exceptionally disturbing, please beware.  
> *Also, I do not know everything about the British Justice system, so I'm sure some of my "interrogation scene" won't make any real sense, and maybe I've watched a few too many Law and Order: Special Victim Unit episodes, but this is what I came up with ;)

They sat in a quiet room at the station, set apart from the rest of the noise and clutter of the crowded station room. Tom watched through the window as the detective who had ushered them into the separated room, now rifled through files and folders on his desk. He had introduced himself as Detective Marshall, he was a middle aged man with thinning hair and a graying beard. He shuffled through another pile of folders before finding what he was looking for and turning back towards the room where Mal and Tom were waiting.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said in a gruff voice as he shut the door behind him. He laid his folders on the table and sat down in an empty chair across from them. Tom glanced over at Mal, who was staring down at her phone as it sat on the table in front of her; she watched it like it might jump up and bite her at any moment. Detective Marshall settled in his seat and peered across the table at the two of them, studying them both for a moment. “I remember your statement, Miss McLintock, from the night you were attacked,” his tone was somber, apologetic.

At the sound of her name, Mal looked up. She looked across at the man, trying to place him, but she furrowed her brow when she didn’t recognize his face, “were you there, that night?” she asked, confusion blatant in her shaky voice.

The detective smirked and nodded, “you wouldn’t remember me; it was my partner you gave your statement to. I don’t think you wanted anything to do with us, at the time,” he smiled softly.

Mal tried to smile, “sorry,” she muttered helplessly.

He shook his head and held up a hand, “no need.” He opened one of the folders in front of him and pulled out a sheet of paper. He looked down at it for a moment, then back up at Mal, “can you tell me, if  _this_  is the man who attacked you?” He laid the sheet of paper on the table, turned it around and pushed it towards her. She didn’t move, she just sat there with her arms across her chest, holding herself tightly. When the paper was put in front of her, Tom noticed it wasn’t a photograph like he had been expecting, but a  _sketch_. It was hand drawn in shades of black and gray; a haunting rendition of an older man, with dark piercing eyes and a permanent smile etched upon his lips. His cheeks were pudgy and his chin was almost nonexistent. Mal took one glance at the sketch, then turned towards Tom, if only to get the face out of her field of vision. She reached a hand out blindly and pushed the paper back towards Marshall, who accepted it quickly and stuffed it back into the folder it had come from.

“That’s him,” she said in a small, rasping voice. She was staring intently at Tom’s shoulder, and he moved in his seat so that he could reach his arm over and place his hand on her knee. She didn’t respond to his touch, but he could feel her trembling.

Detective Marshall nodded, looking anxious, “we’ve been after this guy for a while.”

Mal and Tom both turned towards him; eyes wide. Tom found his voice first, “h-has he…has he done this before?”

The detective nodded soberly, “there’ve been two other women that we know about.”

Mal had stopped quivering and sat straighter in her chair, “how do you know it’s the same guy?”

The detective sighed, “ _that_  sketch,” he motioned quickly to the folder in which the horrible hand drawn face was now enclosed inside, “was a sketch from one of his other victims. The description you gave at the hospital was an identical match,” he took a breath. “He has a few… _tendencies_ , as well.”

“ _Tendencies?_ ” Tom repeated warily, watching the detective.

Marshall sighed heavily, “the first thing he does is call his victims… _repeatedly._ ”

Tom felt Mal stiffen, “so you  _do_  think it’s him who’s been calling me?”

The detective nodded, “I have no doubt.”

Tom sat forward in his seat, removing his hand from Mal’s leg and leaning on the table, “what else does he do?”

Mal glanced from the detective to Tom, as the two men watched each other intently. The detective broke the gaze and looked at Mal with apprehension, “ _next_ , he will try to taunt you.”

“Taunt me? How?” she asked.

He sighed again, looking more and more uneasy, “he won’t just call and hang up. He will call until you answer, and then he will proceed to torment you.”

“What if I change my number?”

He shook his head, glancing down at the paperwork in front of him, “the last woman he attacked tried that. We don’t know how he gets his information, but he’s good.”

“You say that like you’re impressed,” Tom scoffed irately. He could feel his pulse quicken with the idea of Mal receiving harassing phone calls.

Marshall looked exasperated, “I’m not  _impressed_ , Mr. Hiddleston. We’ve been after this guy for over a year, we’ve got multiple descriptions of him, and numerous DNA samples. He’s surprisingly good at what he’s doing – and that’s a very disturbing and unsettling notion. I am just trying to prepare you and Miss McLintock for what’s next.”

“Isn’t there anything we can  _do_?” Mal’s voice was on the brink of panic. Tom reached over and placed his hand on top of hers – she gripped his fingers tightly but didn’t look over at him. Her gaze remained fixed on the detective.

Marshall ran a hand across his chin, “we know that he likes to watch the women he’s attacked. He stalks them for a while, learns their routines, then he begins to call, then he torments them. It’s a power-struggle, he’s after the thrill.”

“What if I leave the country?”

The detective looked surprised, then smirked, “that’s actually what the last victim did. She moved to the States, had family there. As far as we can tell he isn’t Transatlantic; he likes to stay here and the surrounding areas. He has a comfort zone.”

An icy shiver ran up Tom’s spine, “he’s been  _watching_  us?”

Marshall nodded, “most likely.”

“When is he going to call me again?” Mal blurted quickly.

The detective sighed, “there’s no way to tell; it could be tomorrow, it could be three weeks from now.”

“But he  _will_  call,” Mal sounded pointedly aware of the situation. Tom turned towards her and saw that stony glare etched into her face as she stared across the table. “Is there  _any_  way to stop him?”

As the detective opened his mouth the answer her, Mal’s phone rang shrilly upon the table, and the three of them jumped in their seats. Tom felt his heart skip a beat, Mal visibly shook within her chair, and the detective looked like he had almost reached for his gun.

Mal stared at her phone for a moment as it rang again; then reached a shaking hand slowly towards it, but Marshall quickly rose to his feet and leaned across the table, pausing her with his hand. “ _Wait_ ,” he said in a hushed voice, “put it on speaker, let me get a trace going,” he quickly moved to the door, leaned out and commanded something to a faceless officer nearby. There was a rustle of movement outside the room, and Mal waited for him to return as the phone continued to ring. When he came back in, he nodded to her, and she touched the phone quickly, as if it might burn her.

“H-hello?” she stammered, still squeezing Tom’s hand. He felt his fingers go numb as he squeezed her fingers tightly. His other hand felt suction-cupped to his face in disbelief as he watched the ringing phone in disbelief.

“Why hello  _Mallory_ ,” the voice was low, calm, and icy. “Detective Marshall, I  _am_ pleased to get to chat with you again, and young Mr. Hiddleston, we haven’t had the pleasure.” The chilling sarcasm in his tone ignited a fire in Tom’s chest; a rage he was unfamiliar with except for when he had thought of what this person had done to Mal.

Before Tom could answer the sardonic comment, Detective Marshall cut in, “what do you want?”

There was a barely audible laugh; coarse on the ear like gravel, “you know _exactly_  what I want, detective, don’t play coy. I was surprised, Mallory, that it took you this long to go to the police. I was wondering if maybe you were going to ignore my phone calls forever?” The lilt in his voice sounded like he was asking a question, but Tom could see the fury building in Mal’s face as she clenched her fist on the table.

“ _Go_   _fuck yourself_ ,  _cocksucker_!” she hissed.

The nameless voice began to chuckle again, a hollow, stinging sound, “no need to be so rude, young lady. Why, we’re practically old friends by now.”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but Mal’s eyes were blazing hot and her face grew pink with bottled rage, “you son of a bitch,” she whispered.

He chuckled dryly, “I’ve enjoyed watching you two.” There was a deep breath, as if he was reminiscing, “you have really made a difference, Tom, with our dear Mallory.”

Tom’s jaw clenched, his nails dug into the skin of his palms, his fists clamped tightly. He shot to his feet and leaned on the table, as Detective Marshall was already doing, “you fucking  _coward_ , you don’t have the right –”

“I’ve watched you for the past six months,” he spoke quickly, perhaps annoyed at Tom’s outburst, “ _both_  of you. I think you’re my favorite, Mallory.” He paused; it was as if he was standing right there in the room with them, watching their every move, “you and your perfectly toned body, so strong…and  _tight_ ,” he chuckled again.

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” she cursed, she stood up and kicked her chair back, sending it across the room. The two men watched her from their perches at the edges of the table, as she balled fists up into her hair and paced, turning back towards the phone when the voice resumed.

“I was a little upset that you had the abortion without even  _consulting_  me,” he laughed. The sound echoed through Tom with a jolt; bile rising in his throat. “You know, my  _dearest_  Mallory, that my gun wasn’t even loaded that night? You could have gotten away, if only you had  _tried._ ” Mal went pale, her hands dropped to her sides as she stepped towards the phone. Tom looked up at her as she leaned on the table, she glanced over at him with tears welling in her eyes, but she quickly looked back down at the phone when the voice returned. “Tell me Tom,” his tone was scathing, “is she still a good fuck, since I had her?”

Mal’s hand came down in a swift arc, slamming the touch screen of her phone so quickly that the detective couldn’t have stopped her. The line went dead, and she tossed the phone across the room with a stifled sob. It clattered lightly to the floor and she flung herself down into an empty chair at the table.

Tom looked up at Marshall, and they exchanged glances for a moment, before the detective launched himself off the table and back out to the person he had yelled at when the call had started. He came back into the room with a solemn look on his face, “we didn’t get him.”

Tom spun around, “after all  _that?_ ”

The detective shook his head, “his signal was bouncing everywhere. It was impossible to lock down a location.”

Mal dropped her face into her hands and heaved a gasping breath. Tom bolted from his rigid perch at the other side of the table, and came around to clasp her in his arms, stooping over to hold her. She cried quietly, clutching at him as he rubbed her back, but he couldn’t hold his own tears back as his heart raced wildly in his chest. Mal quieted after a moment, and pulled slowly out of Tom’s arms. He stood up, keeping a hand on her shoulder, as she looked up at the detective apprehensively. “So you’re saying he’s going to keep calling me like this and tease me…” she gasped, her chin trembling, “and… _torture_  me, until….until what? What’s his endgame?”

Detective Marshall just stared at her for a moment. He looked from Mal to Tom, then back to Mal. After another moment of silence, he walked around the table to where he had laid the folders when he had first come in. He pulled out the bottom folder and came around the table to where Mal sat, leaning on the edge of the table as he held the folder out for her. She looked up at him, then took it from him and opened it.

From above, Tom could see that there was only one sheet of paper within the folder, and it seemed to be a photocopy of a newspaper article. Mal scanned the headline quickly, then raised her hand to her mouth. She glanced up at the detective, her eyes searching and fearful. She turned to Tom, then handed him the folder. He rotated it in his hands so that he could read it properly, then the headline sent another jolt of ice through him.  _Rape Victim Repeatedly Tormented by Rapist; Turned to Suicide._

“No!” he exclaimed, looking at the detective.

Marshall took the folder back and closed it quietly, returning it to the pile on the table. He bent down and picked Mal’s phone up from the floor, then ran a hand through his thinning hair and looked at the two of them. “He was exceptionally vocal after her death. He  _boasted_  about it, sent me letters. It’s horrifying, but I think that’s what he’s after.”

“B-but you said the other woman,” Mal’s voice was shaking, she hugged herself in her seat, “she moved to the states? You said she got away?”

Marshall nodded, but still looked partially doubtful, “I won’t lie to you, Miss McLintock, that is an option. We can offer you protection, but it’s not a permanent fix. What we need to do is  _catch_  him.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Tom felt that sickening rage bubbling inside him again; it felt like it was seeping from his pores, infecting the air around him. He vibrated with the anger coursing through him, and it was painful, “if you haven’t been able to catch him in over a  _year_?”

The detective was quiet for a moment, then turned to Mal with a brightness he had never expressed before, “there may be  _one_  option.”

Tom and Mal walked quickly from the police station and out into the parking lot. The sun was bright and blinding for a moment until their eyes adjusted, the light felt oddly strange after the horrible ordeal they had just gone through in the interview room. Tom couldn’t help but glance around them suspiciously as he walked with his arm around her waist. He peered back over his shoulder so many times that Mal finally turned to him as they walked, “stop it,” she muttered softly.

They neared his car and he dug his keys out of his pocket, still looking around the deserted lot. “I can’t help it, I feel like we’re being watched.”

Mal took a shaking breath as he opened the passenger side door for her. She turned around to face him and took his face in her hands, “we probably  _are_ ,” she said softly, her eyes were cold and stony. There was a terrifyingly resoluteness to her gaze.

Tom felt his chin shake violently, but he looked down at his feet and inhaled sharply through his nose, trying to compose himself. “I don’t like this, Mal.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but what choice do we have?”

He looked up at her, his blue eyes glassy; a combination of fear and anxiety oozing from him like a slime, “I –” he stammered, his voice failing him.

“What, Tom – tell me,” she urged. She leaned her back against the open door of the car.

Tom glanced around anxiously, then ran a hand roughly over his face. He took a deep breath, “I don’t know if I can watch you go through this,” he said, his heart feeling heavy.

Mal stared at him for a moment in bewildered silence. He looked away, partly in shame, but still looking around the parking lot to see if anyone was watching them. When he had the courage to turn back to her, her stare penetrated him in the most agonizing way, “ _excuse me?_ ” She didn’t bother to lower her voice.

His brow creased in frustration, “you  _heard_  me, Mal.”

“Yeah, I heard what you said,” her tone was defiant, unflinching. That determinedly-independent look she had worn for so many years once again triumphantly emblazoned upon her reddening cheeks, “I just can’t  _believe_  what you said.”

“Mal –”

“ _No!_ ” she exclaimed in a shrill tone, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she glared at him, “No, Hiddleston!” He shrunk back from her, balancing on his heels as she reeled at him, “after  _everything_  we’ve been through together – after  _all_  that you’ve helped me deal with! When I’m finally able to defend myself – when I’m finally able to  _fight back_  – you’re going to  _leave me?_  You’re just gonna give up?” She was shouting now, her voice tremulous, her tears flowing freely as she screeched.

“Mal!” Tom tried, but she pushed past him.

He grabbed for her arm but she shook him off, “FUCK YOU TOM!” she screamed, jogging farther away from him. She glanced over her shoulder as she rushed, hurrying towards the street and flagging down a taxi. Tom watched helplessly as she slammed the door and flipped him off from the backseat of the cab as it sped away.

**~*~**

Mal pulled the door to the gym shut with a loud slam and turned the key. She stuffed the ring of keys into her purse as she glanced over her shoulder at the darkened city street. The office buildings and nearby storefronts were all dark and silent now. She had trained with Russ for the last three hours, and had to get home to get ready for her flight to Mexico. Out of habit, she tested the doorknob, then resituated the strap of her purse on her shoulder, and set off towards the parking lot.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and for a moment she thought it might be Tom. He had tried to call her so many times that she had gotten used to ignoring her phone, even more than usual. She hadn’t spoken to him since she had moved back into her flat. She pulled the vibrating phone from her pocket, glanced down at the screen, then turned it back off and continued towards her car.

There was an eerie silence wafting through the air surrounding her, as if she had stepped into a vacuum. As if the vacuum of unending space had descended upon the tiny little lot next to the gym, and she had unknowingly passed within its borders. There were only a couple of other cars parked here, presumably belonging to the owner or patrons of the bar down the street. Mal clutched at the can of mace she had hanging from her purse, hoping for some sort of reassurance –  _the darkness is playing tricks on you_ , she tried to convince herself.

There was a sudden metallic clatter from across the street and the piercing howl of an infuriated cat, she turned towards the noise; her can of mace at the ready, but she didn’t see anything – or any _one_. She continued to look around for another moment, standing in the center of the parking lot, her legs tensed painfully in case she felt the urge to run to her car. When she was satisfied that there was no one approaching her, and that the stillness of the air in this late hour was what was making her uneasy, she turned back towards where she had parked and started walking again.

She fidgeted with her other key ring for a moment, unlatching it from its hook at the corner of her bag, then found the key for the car and slipped it into the lock. As she pulled on the handle and started to open the door, she felt a powerful force came up from behind her, and saw a familiar, calloused hand press against the door and slam it shut. She let out a shriek, but another sickeningly grimy hand closed firmly around her mouth, and she was pulled backwards against a broad, pudgy body. The smell of motor oil permeated her nostrils as she struggled to breathe, and she strained to look to her side and see the face of the man holding her. As she tried to turn, there was a flash of something bright and silver, and she felt him wrap his arms around her tighter.

His lips were at her ear, his breath hot and foul, “no struggling, my dear,” he hummed softly. In his other hand, he moved the knife closer to her face so she could see it, and she felt him smile against the side of her face, “it’s much easier to get accidentally  _stabbed_  if you struggle.” Mal understood; this was different than having a gun, and she didn’t doubt that he could easily slip that knife into the small of her back – or  _any_  part of her – if she continued to resist him.

“Are we going to behave?” he asked with a sickening grin.

She nodded into the hand on her mouth, and he quickly removed it. He spun her around, throwing her up against her car and pressing into her with his body. She turned away; the feeling of him against her made her stomach churn, she felt vomit gurgling in her throat.

“Look at me,” he demanded, pressing the flat side of the knife against her cheek and pushing it into her skin until she was forced to turn back and look at him. Her eyes stung, she could feel the tears as they rolled down her face, but that only seemed to make him smile wider. His face was gruesome; Mal felt the bile in the back of her throat when she saw his disgusting smile – wide and stupid, with brown teeth as he laughed. “I was surprised to see you back here Mallory,” he cooed, leaning his face forward towards her. “I thought you would stay away from this place for the rest of your life,” his breath was horribly hot on her skin. She leaned back as far as she could, but he pressed even further into her. He slammed the hand holding the knife onto the hood of her car, she heard the clink of metal on metal, and his other hand came up to grip her jaw as he tried to force her to kiss him.

She let out a muffle cry, to which he replied with another curdling laugh, and Mal scrunched her eyes closed as his face neared hers. She waited for those horrible lips to press themselves up against her own, while mentally screaming at herself to shut down and go limp – to play dead,  _maybe that would stop him_.

“HEY _!_ ” a familiar voice called out. Mal’s eyes shot open just in time to see Tom’s pale figure barreling towards them. Before she or her assailant could react, Tom had covered the distance between them with his long legs, and delivered a shattering uppercut to the man’s unsuspecting jaw. With a howl, her rapist toppled backwards and off of her, he spun around and stumbled against the side of the car. Tom went after him again; Mal’s hands covered her mouth in shock as Tom laid into him, forcing him to the ground. Tom’s arms thundered down upon him with the kind of strength and power she had only ever seen him use on stage.

Suddenly, there were more people bustling around them. They passed by her in a whir; she couldn’t make out anyone’s face. Finally, she saw the thin hair of Detective Marshall, as he struggled to pull Tom off of her attacker. Tom was thrown back, he heaved and gasped for air as he watched the detective and other officers haul the man up from the ground and restrain him. Mal watched, frozen in terror, as the man’s knife clattered to the pavement. She glanced at it for a moment, but it didn’t look right; it wasn’t silver and shiny anymore, there was a swipe of bright red upon its edge now.

“Tom?” her voice felt foreign to her, she wasn’t even sure if she had actually spoken. He turned to her, sweat beading upon his brow; the remnants of rage slowly falling away from his normally handsome face. He stared at her for a moment, his eyes unfocused. Then, as if just recognizing her for the first time, his expression softened, and he moved towards her.

Mal felt her body move before she understood what she was doing. She reached out to him as he closed the gap between them, and as soon as she was in his arms, the sobs burst from her. His hand was at the back of her head, she could feel him nuzzle into her hair as she shook; his body held her upright when her legs began to buckle. He held her so tightly she felt like she might become a part of him through osmosis, as if she would be absorbed into him and live within his skin for the rest of her life.

“ _Mal_ ,” he whispered. Her arms clung around his waist as he pulled back a few inches to look down at her. She blubbered through her sobs as she tried to look up at him, but her eyes were full tears and she could barely see his face. She felt one of his hands on her cheek, and a rush of air filled her lungs. She closed her hand over his and inhaled the sweet scent of his skin on hers. She blinked away her tears and smiled through the anguish, up into his bright sapphire eyes.

“You came back for me,” her voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper.

A small, tenuous smile crept across his lips, but his expressive eyes betrayed him as he held back his own tears, “I never  _left_  you,” he said softly. He leaned down, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she leaned up and was swallowed up into his kiss. Her arms snaked around his shoulders as his own scooped her up and lifted her feet from the ground. They could feel eyes on them as they kissed, but neither of them cared. When they finally needed to come up for air, he released her just enough from his warm embrace for her to return back to the ground. When their lips separated, they stared at each other long enough for Marshall to clear his throat and shuffle uncomfortably on his feet next to them.

Mal and Tom turned towards the detective, who looked relieved to not have to watch them snog any longer. “Good job, Hiddleston, we couldn’t have done it without you,” he said quickly, smiling curtly at the both of them. He reached a hand out towards Tom, who extricated an arm from around Mal and reached over to shake his outstretched hand.

“Tom, your hand!” Mal gasped. Tom noticed the blood on his palm and stopped himself from grasping the other man’s hand. The detective turned towards the commotion of officers and called someone’s name, beckoning them towards the three of them.

“You need to get that looked at,” Marshall said as another officer came jogging over. “Take them to the hospital. They stay together, no matter what,” he commanded to the younger officer. The officer nodded, and gestured for Tom and Mal to follow him towards the ambulance. Mal glanced back as Marshall headed over to one of the police cars, and as she and Tom were ushered into the back of the awaiting ambulance, she saw him stoop low to peer into the back window of the car. She saw the outline of that horrifying face that had haunted her dreams for so many months, but then she turned back to Tom and heaved the image from her mind.

“You were working with Marshall?” she asked as she watched the EMT bandage Tom’s hand. He nodded slowly, watching her for her reaction. There was a sliver of fury that passed through her, but it was a fleeting thought. The overwhelming image that was reverberating through her brain was of Tom appearing out of the darkness and rescuing her from that beast. The image of him barreling down on that monster and pummeling him into submission seized at her heart and caused her stomach to do flips.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said solemnly, as the technician finished with his hand and the ambulance started to move.

Mal shook her head and stepped across the small space between them, letting herself plop onto the gurney, inches from where Tom sat. He watched her closely, his brow strained with anxiety. She looked up at him with the most natural smile she had felt since this whole nightmare had begun all those months ago. Her chest felt lighter, and air came into her lungs easily, without the burden of impending doom weighing her down. She reached over and laid her hand upon his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath his ribs. “You’re the only one who could’ve saved me,” she whispered into his mouth as their lips neared. “You’re the only one who could pull me from that darkness,” she pressed her lips to his and felt the electric jolt between them. The kiss only lasted a moment before she pulled back again, stars exploding behind her eyes as she beamed up at him, “ _thank you_.”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RATING: M - explicit smuttyness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: I don’t usually write happy endings, but I thought both Mal and Tom deserved a little happiness after everything I’ve put them through…

“Where did they disappear to?” Ben asked Susan as he came over to her with the glass of champagne she had asked him to get. The reception was in full swing; there were bursts of laughter and cheering from the dance floor as guests swung around merrily to the music. Ben sat down next to her at the table and scanned the joyful crowd. The air was light and full of the sweet smell of the autumn. Leaves were drifting softly down from the trees as the wedding guests continued to party and the band played on. “I can’t believe Hiddleston disappeared from his own wedding,” he scoffed with a chuckle as he sipped his drink.

He glanced over at Susan, who just shook her head. She took a sip of her bubbly drink and looked back at Ben, “ _I_  can,” she smirked.

Ben lifted an eyebrow at her, “oh?”

Her smirk finally erupted into a laugh; Ben was relieved to see the woman actually knew  _how_  to laugh. She contained herself after a moment, “you know those two can’t keep their hands off each other.”

Ben smiled, nodding, “you have a point.”

Luke suddenly fell into one of the empty chairs on Ben’s other side; looking exasperated and out of breath. He watched the dancing crowd for a minute, then dug his phone out from his pocket. Ben watched him, then reached over and nonchalantly removed the phone from the young agent’s hands.

“Ben!” Luke exclaimed in frustration.

“It’s a wedding, Luke! Leave the work for later,” Ben chuckled.

Luke scowled at him, “I was  _trying_  to call Tom and find out where he is. We’re going to be doing the toasts soon!”

Ben waved him off, “he’s around, let him be. It’s his wedding for Christ’s sake.” Luke continued to pout, looking obviously lost without his phone. Ben looked back at him, seeing his frown, and took pity on him. He tossed the phone onto the table and Luke snapped it up quickly. “Leave them alone,” Ben pleaded with the overzealous agent, “let them have some time alone. They know when the toasts will start.”

Luke quickly rose from the table and retreated away. Susan watched him go, then turned back to Ben with feigned shock, “he’s rather fidgety,” she chuckled.

He nodded, glancing back over his shoulder towards where Luke had disappeared, “he’s had a rough couple of months since Mal’s story hit the media.” Susan made a low grumble deep in her throat and Ben turned back to her, trying his best not to smirk. “I take it you’re not exactly  _pleased_  that your little sister has been in all the papers.”

She eyed him scathingly, then quickly softened her gaze, perhaps remembering that she was at her sister’s wedding and was supposed to be cheery, “no, I’m not pleased about that at all. As if it wasn’t hard enough for her to go through what she did, the media attention isn’t making it any easier for her.”

Ben nodded, then sighed heavily, “I don’t think it can be helped.”

Susan scoffed, “Tom didn’t  _have_  to give that interview after the trial.”

He turned back to her, “true, he didn’t. But he wouldn’t have done it if Mal hadn’t wanted him to.”

Susan looked annoyed, she crossed her arms over her chest and glanced around the party. The sun was starting to set in the distance, and she looked over to see her two young sons playfully shaking a few of Tom and Mal’s wedding gifts. “I just hope she can finally be happy,” she sighed.

Ben smiled, reaching over to pat her knee reassuringly, “I honestly don’t think _either_  of them have ever been happier, Sue.”

While the band played on, and the crowd of friends and family danced and cheered happily in the setting sun, Tom and Mal were nowhere to be seen. They had escaped soon after cutting their wedding cake, and disappeared into the cavernous mansion that sat in front of the backyard where their wedding was being hosted. The house wasn’t  _completely_  empty; they had had to duck into a nearby storage closet to avoid being seen by one of the waiters as he brought more drinks out from the kitchen. Suppressing their giggles, Tom had led Mal down another hallway, away from the hustle and bustle of the hired help; the lacy train of her wedding dress billowing behind them as they went.

They turned a corner and found a deserted hallway, so far removed from the celebration outside that they could no longer hear the music. Mal squealed as Tom pressed her up against a wall, the many folds of her gown crunching softly between them. She flung her arms around his shoulders as he kissed her, and when his mouth began to travel down her neck, she bit her lip to try and contain herself.

“Not here,” she whispered, and he drew back. She was grinning ear to ear, and he chuckled at the excitement exuding from her. He took her hand again, and they made their way down the quiet hallway, searching for an unlocked door. Finally, a knob actually turned, and he pulled her quickly inside the room before anyone could happen upon them. He locked the door quickly, then turned back to her, only to have her attack him with her mouth.

“We don’t have much time,” he whispered between her kisses, “Luke will be looking for us.”

She was pulling him backwards, her fingers working at the buckle of his pants. He reached between them and undid the buttons of his tux, shrugging it off and tossing it onto a nearby armchair. Mal’s ass made contact with the edge of a table, and she giggled in surprise as Tom reached down, grabbed her thighs through the large skirt of her dress, and hoisted her up onto the table’s edge. She snaked her arms around his shoulders again, drawing him closer. He melded into her, sliding the lacy fabric of her skirt and underskirt slowly up her thighs. She wrapped her stocking-clad legs around his hips, her heels clanking together behind his ass.

She pulled him into another kiss, tugging on his bottom lip as she giggled. He delved one hand up into her hair, which she worn down for the ceremony, and his other hand slid under her billowing dress. His fingers crept up her toned thighs, searching for the brim of her panties, as she reached back down to pull him out of his pants. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that she wasn’t _wearing_  panties; her garter was the only thing she had on under all those layers of white.

He pulled back from her lips for a moment, eyeing her with a mischievous grin. She smirked, working his erection deftly as he pressed his body against hers. “My naughty, naughty  _wife_ ,” he whispered, his lips finding hers again.

Mal smiled as he kissed and nipped his way down her neck, she flicked at his earlobe with her tongue, “tell me what I really want to hear, Tom,” she moaned.

Tom reached a hand down between them, taking himself in a firm grip as she scooted closer to him on the edge of the table. He found her wetness quickly, and thrust easily into her. She threw her head back and cried out, and he pulled her face back to his and ravaged her mouth with his lips. His tongue crept past her lips and she moaned into him, he began to piston into her wildly with his hips.

She tore her lips from his as she clung to him, “ _say it_ , Tom!” she called out in a breathy moan.

He buried his face in her neck, “are you begging me to call you  _Mrs. Hiddleston_?” he asked with a wry grin against her skin.

Mal gasped shrilly and shuddered, her muscles tightening around him as he pumped into her. Tom growled against her throat, nipping at her skin as she neared her orgasm. He quickened his pace, undulating his hips against her and thrusting so hard that the table shifted beneath them. Mal let out a shrill cry of ecstasy and gripped his hair tightly in her fingers. Her inner walls clamped down on him as she came, and with one final thrust Tom felt his own release wash over him. He shuddered with a deep groan as he spilled his seed deep within her, leaning into her as he fought to catch his breath.

Mal supported herself with an arm behind her on the table, still holding onto Tom with her other arm and her legs around his hips. They stayed like that for a moment, each feeling the other’s heartbeat begin to slow as they looked at one another. Tom reached up and ran his fingertips lightly down the side of her face, “have I told you today how much I love you?”

She smirked, but it morphed quickly into that bright, contagious smile that he had loved for so long. She beamed at him, “I’m pretty sure you mentioned it, when we were exchanging vows,” and the witty sarcasm in her voice made him chuckle as he leaned in to kiss her.


End file.
